Where I implore a multi-million dollar company to stop scaring the living shibbit out of me

Dear Sony Pictures - Movie Division,

This is not the type of letter I usually write but I have to ask, nay, beg you to stop playing the trailer for The Messengers during the day.

Why should you stop promoting this guaranteed money maker during daylight hours? I'll tell you. Imagine, if you will, there is this suburban housewife - it's not hard, there are a lot of us out there. As a matter of fact, imagine me 10 pounds lighter and naturally blond. With perkier boobs - and try to picture said housewife going about her business, just dusting her living room while watching I Love New York on VH1.

A show, I might add, that she only gets to watch while her toddler is napping, because as much as the housewife loves a good trainwreck she is unwilling to expose her child to this trash because New York's new yabbos might just pop through the screen and knock the unsuspecting toddler unconscious. Seriously. WTF is up with those things? But I digress.

So our heroine, the housewife, is dusting the living room and while clearing the television of peanut butter finger prints and dog hair, her face this close to the screen, your trailer for The Messengers comes on. At first the housewife is interested. Aw, what a cute little boy, she thinks. Paranormal phenomenon, yeah, yeah, yeah. Ooh, Dylan McDermott. He's yummy. Hmm, old farmhouse. Interesting. That spot on the wall is never going to come clea... Oh My God! What the hell was that!! Ahhh! Stop it. Stop with the scary shit. Shit! What the hell was that thing that just crawled across the screen?! What just grabbed that pretty girl?! Okay, cute little boy again, everything is going to be fin... Jeezus! Scary faces! Scaaary faaaaccesssss!!

A person should not be that close to her fear at 1:17pm on a Tuesday. I'm now afraid to make my bed for fear of catching a glimpse of demon pre-schooler legs while fluffing the blankets. If you're going to produce a horror movie stick to the time honored themes: Escaped mental patients, guys in hockey masks, over-developed teenage girls getting busy with horny boys in the back of AMC Ramblers while jealous psychopathic cheerleaders lurk in the bushes, waiting to decapitate them with field hockey sticks. I'm used to that stuff. But please, leave the children alone. My heart can't take it. I don't need to know "that children are highly susceptible to paranormal phenomena". Now every time my child babbles in her sleep I'll be worried that, yes, in fact she is speaking in tongues. (I knew it! She is possessed.)

Please, Sony Pictures, don't make me beg. I'm not asking you to stop playing the trailer entirely, just not when I'm most likely to be alone. With nothing but a dust rag to hide my eyes. Do you know what it feels like to get Pledge-coated cat hair in your cornea? I can tell you, it doesn't tickle.

Play the trailer at night, I'm totally okay with that. Because it scares the bejeebus out of my husband. And scared husband = high comedy.

I thank you in advance for your consideration in this matter. Oh, and for Catch and Release. I love a good chick flick. But you probably already knew that, didn't you?

Sincerely,

Mrs. T. Chicky (she of the naturally blond hair and perky boobs)


p.s. BOO! Aha, got you, didn't I? Weren't expecting that, were you? Payback, suckas.