Being born in ’86, I can definitely say I was late to The Smurf party. I saw the show a few times here and there, but never really liked it and never gave it any real thought. At some point during my childhood, however, I’m thinking 8 or 9, the church my family and I attended had a guest pastor, and he told us a story.
There once was a child, barely a toddler, whose bedroom had been decorated in commemoration of The Smurfs. Most notably, there was a large poster of a Smurf that sat just above the child’s crib. One morning, his parents went to check in on him, and discovered the child missing. The only clue as to who had taken him? The poster that had hung over his crib was exactly the same, but for the empty space where a smurf had once stood. Smurfs were diabolical creatures that stole your children in the dead of night.
I used to get a lot of toys second hand. Our local thrift store would sell these bags of little action figures and small toys for like $3. Sure enough, there’d always be a Smurf smuggled in the lot and like clock work, my mom always got rid of them. She wouldn’t even let them in the house, afraid its demonic soul would be trapped there. Not being a fan of The Smurfs, it didn’t really bother me. Recently I did try to get more information as to why they had such evil motives, but my mom couldn’t give me any real solid answers. Other than, they’re little blue demons, of course.
