The National Lottie

Part I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X,

And Now XI

Don’t get me wrong, I know that some of us have it real bad but as I lie here with Mr. Potato’s fat arse pressed against my still rosy cheeks I remember that first Christmas out of the box.

The night the fat man came had been surreal, all of us cramped together under the tree. We giggled and laughed with anticipation from inside our individual packs and willed the dawn to come.

Then, still in the wee hours, the first patters of feet from above and within minutes the room was flooded with lights and the laughter of children. “This is it” I thought to myself. “It will be love at first sight and then happily ever after”.

I was shaken from my spot, paper wrapping torn from around me and my little plastic room was filled with light and the gleeful freckled face came into view.

Screams of glee and  “Wow thank you mum” followed. The red-haired darling ripped the cardboard from around me, undid the pipe cleaners that held me in place and I waited for our first embrace.

Then it happened. Oh God. I was heaved over on my head and my pretty pink skirt was hoisted above over my head as the kid shoved her snotty nose up my privates.

What the Fuck? I thought. What is the ginger brat doing? Stop. Help. Someone.

The next few minutes were the worst of my life. My gown was raised and lowered as I was passed from snot nose to snot nose. All modesty was torn from me as the other toys looked on in horror.  My sweet strawberry scent was inhaled like  cocaine.  I could catch glimpses of Barbie and her mates sniggering in the corner. Stupid Bitch. Everyone knows those tits are plastic.

After a while I was cast aside and the hellion turned her attentions to the others. Who knew what intentions the demon spawn harboured for the her new playmates.

I wished them luck and turned away as not to witness their disgrace.

But their disgrace never came.

Instead of being raped of the modesty and abused for the sake of some olfactory fetish, they were cuddled and petted and bestowed with names such as “Jessica“, “Bluebell” and “Mr. Wabbit”. Did I not deserve a name? I didn’t want to be a cupcake doll you know. I could have been a collectors item. I cursed my distribution line and the haphazardness of fate.

Many years have passed since that awful day and while I held pride of place on a draft window sill for sometime, I now hold company with old Starchy, Jessica and yes, Barbie.  Of course Bab’s beauty has long since faded and we have become close allies. Despite the initial fawning, she didn’t escape the years unscathed. An encounter with a younger sibling and a pair of scissors left her a balding cripple and the teenage curiosity years didn’t do much for her pride either.

We live in close quarters now in a musty old attic and when it gets cold and dark we strike up a glow stick and exchange war stories and tales of life outside the box.

I shouldn’t complain though, it could be worse, being a toy can be life and death for some…

XII, XIII, XIV, XV

The Format:

1. Thriftcriminal
2. Rick O’Shea
3. Whoopsadaisy
4. Maxi Cane
5. Will Knott
6. Darren Byrne
7. Rapture Ponies
8. Chris P Pancake
9. Darragh Doyle
10. K8 The Gr8
11. Lottie
12. Grandad
13. Someone living
14. Jo
15. H

This entry was posted on Tuesday, December 23rd, 2008 at 9:24 pm and is filed under Blog. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.