by Tumbleweed_Tex » Mon Jul 26, 2010 10:24 am
Sometimes I scare myself…
This sprang out of my keyboard one day after I had consumed copious amounts of asparagus and pickled pig’s feet. Luckily there wasn’t any sauerkraut involved…or witnesses. Deniability is important in the cowboy business…
TOY STORY
Once upon a time, in the Valley of Fun, across the river from uptown, and alongside the tracks, there lived a small, blue-eyed toy. He was not your average, run-of-the-mill toy because of the complicated rules and regulations governing toys (not to mention the fact that the toy mill had long since been closed and he was an immigrant).
He lived in a tiny toybox (him being small and all), painted painstakingly in purple and yellow pinstripes, and adorned with deep, forest green shutters. Not that the color of the toybox, or the shutters, has anything at all to do with this story, but hey, this is *my* toy story, and since I can't spell chartreuse without looking it up, I made the darn thing purple and yellow...OK? (geez…)
Everyone...well, not *everyone*, but most of the other playthings...thought the blue-eyed toy was slightly strange, and many of them would have gone as far as to say he was mentally disturbed if they had been *capable* of saying anything. (toys can't talk you know...what's wrong with you people?)
It should therefore come as no great surprise that the miniscule oddball soon became known as "The Little Mentally Disturbed Toy with Blue Eyes", and like most toys who fall into this category, he not only had few friends, but had great difficulty when it came to influencing people...and as a result of THAT, he was never allowed to join in any plaything games. (ok, I admit it, I borrowed that one)
Now...is it any wonder that in the once upon a time where this story takes place, the LMDTWBE was a virgin? Think about it. He was small, he was strange, he had no social life to speak of, (come on folks) he lived in a yellow and purple pinstriped toybox...and the simple fact that he had blue eyes just wasn't enough to get the poor little guy a date.
Few people realize this, but loneliness, for a toy, is a big deal. I mean, sure, a toy's life is filled with the threat of recall, discontinuance, and ripped seams, but those things pale in comparison to having to walk around, day after day, with a swollen, throbbing, blood filled...heart. (What? Give me some credit here…this is a family show)
One fine spring day, as the little toy was sitting half in, half out of his toybox, pondering his dilemma, and thinking how, if he moved just a little to his left, the handle on the lid would be in a really nice position, news came rushing across the valley like fire gone wild.
In celebration of the anniversary of the passing of the law whereby alternate toys were made available to children under the age of three, the plastic toys with smooth, round edges were throwing a huge shindig (for all you northerners, that's a BALL).
The little blue-eyed toy was beside himself, because not only did he have nothing to wear, but he knew that his Fairy Godmother was out of town, having gone to Chicago to attend the Cubs three game series with Houston. He knew all the delicious little girl-toys would be there...but other than his blue eyes, he had nothing with which to attract them.
He spent the rest of the day oiling the hinges on the toybox, trying not to think about the hopelessness of his situation, and being very careful not to pinch protruding parts of himself in the lid. As the day of the shindig quickly approached, he became depressed, and soon developed a very real inferiority complex.
Folks, there is nothing, and I *do* mean nothing, which can compare to a lonely, mentally disturbed toy, with an inferiority complex, unless you consider the time the Tooth Fairy got high on glucose and discovered what Little Red Riding Hood REALLY carries around in that basket...but we won't go there...at least not today.
That's it...story time is over...and you can stop looking at me that way, because YES, I took my medication this morning...
Tex
