[8/22/2004]My aversion to mushy food was mostly unconscious until I landed on the SciFi channel on a night late last week.

Having just edited a story on “Exorcist: The Beginning” that afternoon, I decided to give the original 1973 version of “The Exorcist” a chance. Many consider the story of a little girl under demonic possession the scariest movie ever made.

I was not allowed to see the movie when it debuted on movie screens, but by the time I saw the movie in full when I was grown, I knew all the scenes.

Dog-eared copies of William Blatty’s book floated around underground during my elementary school years. I remember the cover well, but I was afraid to look inside.

Some playmate, though, had seen the movie. Maybe it was permissive or lax parenting, or maybe it was an older sibling relating the tale to her. But I learned the story of Regan’s possession and exorcism scene by scene over a series of days between the time the last bell rang and supper.

Properly frightened by the descriptions of what went on in this story, I never even tried to watch the movie until I was grown.

By the time I saw it, the film’s original shock value had worn off. Audiences were just as likely to laugh when Linda Blair as Regan spewed pea soup or spun her head.

I settled in last week with my dog and two scoops of vanilla ice cream, wondering if I’d laugh or if I’d be scared, and skeptical that I would be able to last until 11.

There were some things that made me laugh. Regan’s mother believes the sounds she keeps hearing from the attic are coming from rats. Right.

Unless rats wear shoes, drag heavy tools across the floor and have voices, there’s no way anyone would even consider that these sounds might be rodent-related.

But it was possible to move past that horror-movie convention. And the green and yellow viscous liquids that emitted from Regan’s mouth and nose are still pretty gross.

I suddenly flashed on why I don’t eat corn pudding, English peas or split pea soup green or yellow.

It’s embarassing, but I stifled giggles as the demon made Regan’s body shake like a chew toy in a dog’s mouth.

Around the time Regan’s possessed self had killed the neighbor, my dog had seen enough. Ruby got off the ottoman and put herself to bed without a backward glance.

The movie was creepiest, though, in the scenes that didn’t have Regan in them. Shot with shadows in every scene, the movie hints at dark psychological secrets that are almost scarier than the prospect of a demon.

I worried the movie would keep me awake. I worried I would have nightmares.

When I woke up with my head at an awkward angle on the side of the chair, Father Merrin was staring down at Regan’s body, exhorting the demon to leave.

I had seen enough. I got off the chair, turned off the TV and climbed into bed, careful not to disturb Ruby’s snores.

I slept dreamlessly.

But I’ll probably pass on the guacamole for a while.

Sonya Kimbrell is features editor of The Vicksburg Post. E-mail her at skimbrell@vicksburgpost.com.