It happened because of a weird hobby and a boring job. I worked at the town's local dump, a mile-wide wasteland covered with trash. In order to cut costs, the foreman started burning random bits of the trash, and since the place was so far away from the town, the cops never found out. Problem was, a new brand of crying baby dolls had lost their popularity, and people were throwing them away by the truckloads. The things were made of a nasty kind of plastic, and after the foreman attempted to burn one, the whole place smelled like toxic glue for a week.
The foreman was lazy, and the kind of person to easily give up, so he started giving me the dolls, ordering me to get rid of them. I was having a hard time getting a better job, so I reluctantly accepted.
I decided to make a joke out of the problem. I knew I'd have to bury the dolls, and I'd have to do it at night. Why not make things more interesting? A new tradition started: Every night, I drove up to the local High School, and buried dolls. I had some three hundred to deal with, so I planted them all around the school, absolutely surrounding it.
Every day I went to school, wondering when the first one would be found. Indeed, they were found…all at the same time. I was in a math class when a minor Californian earthquake hit the school and the crying began. The babies mechanics were set off by the quake, and the entire school was filled with an unearthly crying sound as the school shook and trembled.
I was the only person laughing.