There are five kids in my family. I’m the oldest (I am 12), then I have three brothers and a sister, Katherine, who is 1. A while ago my oldest brother, Danny, found his whoopee cushion somewhere in his messy room. Danny blew it up and then squeezed it, trying to make Katherine laugh. Katherine burst into tears and cried until Danny put the whoopee cushion away.
A month later Danny pulled the whoopee cushion out again to see if Katherine remembered what it did. The minute he blew it up, she started screaming. She did remember and she did still hate it.
I think being afraid of a whoopee cushion is the most unusual fear I have ever heard of.
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