It was with great trepidation, Gentle Reader, that I decided to explore Bremerton. I had gotten off work, and I had three hours to kill before my lift would be available. Bremerton is a bit of a rough area, generally; there’s a spot called Heroin Hill directly adjacent to my workplace. I figured that my best bet was to head down towards the ferry-docks, where things aren’t quite as run down.
Briskly up the hill I went, and just as briskly back down, past Our Lady Star of The Sea, and past the Colonel’s old place. I wandered disconsolate for a bit, and then I stumbled upon what was evidently the Goth kid’s answer to Diagon Alley. There was a gorgeous old boarded up theatre –
– and a number of vintage clothing shops, as well as one vintage clothing/costume shop called Ish. It was there I found a genuine vintage pair of military shit-kickers that dated to at least Viet Nam for twenty dollars. Yes, please.
You need to understand, Gentle Reader – these boots were actually hobnailed. Word.
Ish also rents their pricier items – actually, most of the things I was interested in were rental only, which was a pity – but I suppose one only needs so many brocade blazers and no more. At any rate, I highly recommend browsing their racks, should you find yourself in squalid old Bremerton for some reason.
Next door to Ish, I saw a sign advertising a terrifying puppet museum. That is, the sign didn’t actually say “Terrifying Puppet Museum” – but it’s an understood fact that any puppet museum is going to be terrifying. It’s an undeniable fact, like the wetness of water, or that spring follows winter, or that I drool over straight boys.
Alors. Into the Puppet Museum slipped I, and the softness of the light was surprising. I was greeted by a grandmotherly woman; there was a play area – the whole reception area looked a bit like a preschool. Admission was free – although there was a fishbowl for donations – and I parted the velvet curtains, and stepped toward my doom.
I didn’t take any photos myself at the museum, as I’ve heard of the work of R. L. Stine, and it appears that the more horrific puppets don’t have online images. Trust me when I say that there was some really freaky shit, man. However, to its credit, the museum had puppets that were several hundred years old, as well as puppets from all over the world. They were very comprehensive for such a baffling institution, in a town that I’m fairly sure is not that receptive to culture.
The point of this post, Gentle Reader? Next time you can’t avoid being in Bremerton, I highly recommend taking a visit to 4th avenue.