The Tale of Creepy Jesus

One of the things my cousins and I reminisced about during my grandmother’s funeral was a religious piece that adorned her seldom-used dining room. The kitchen was where all the excitement happened if we weren’t outside having fun. This object was a carnival prize won by my Great Grandma Stobner for my dad. All I could think of when I learned that juicy tidbit–even after my mother uttered the phrase “that’s when you got good prizes”–is why this would be a gift for a child?

You’ll know what I mean in a minute but I want to give some background of what my cousins and my siblings thought of this ‘gift’. The title of this blog piece gives away the name we gave it and yes, it is an image of our Lord and Savior. That alone should warrant some respect, right? Not when you’re a small child and freaked out by an inanimate object that followed your every move. There Creepy Jesus stood on a hutch in along the back wall of the dining room. To get to the only bathroom in the house you had to go through said dining room. Unless you traversed the one side of the house’s flight of stairs going up and down the other side. The wonders of a duplex made into one living space. I did that sometimes when I didn’t get scolded for it. This was the Pittsburgh area, after all, and by doing that I came awfully close to the good living room kids were not allowed to enter.

So back to a young child needing use of said bathroom. Imagine, no matter where you looked, Creepy Jesus followed you. Don’t believe me? Pictures don’t lie.


The person who came up with this figurine was pure evil! My siblings and crawled on our hands and knees, sometimes our bellies, to avoid getting stared at by Creepy Jesus. this was a gift … to a child. So when things were slowly leaving grandma’s house, my dad took his prize Grandma Stobner had won specifically for him.

The story doesn’t end there. As if the trauma of childhood wasn’t enough, my parents put this follower of all who enters its space in their bedroom. Think about that for a second. On second thought, don’t.

…Jesus is watching you masturbate…..