Had a weird one this morning. I was in my bedroom at my mother's house, and I came downstairs and John was there. He told me to go check on Quincy Bear, because he was saying weird things. I went back into my room and picked up Quincy Bear and he had like three voice recorders in his arm instead of just the one. I pressed one and he said something along the lines of, "I don't like it here anymore." I looked at him incredulously and said, "What did you say?" I pressed another one and he said, "I SAID I don't like it here anymore!" I was just on the verge of being terrified when I woke up.
Staring right at Quincy Bear.
Great. The little fucker's turned into Chucky and I'll be dead soon. Curse you, satanic Build-A-Bear!