Misfit

I have no nose. How am I supposed to wear my glasses without a nose? I don’t care if it’s a giant schnoz or if it’s a tiny one with a turned-up tip. Just give me something that sticks out of my face.

And what’s going on with my clothes? Somehow I doubt I’m supposed to be wearing a tutu with black combat boots and a fully automatic assault rifle. Giant Christmas Balls! Who put me together?!

Seriously. What’s going on? I never asked to be a toy and if I were to want to be a toy, I definitely wouldn’t have picked being a doll. There’s nothing cool about being a doll. Kids rip our arms and leg off. They cut our hair, dress us inappropriately, they draw on us. There’s no respect in being a doll nowadays. Now video games. That is where you get r-e-s-p-e-c-t.

At this point I would take any game, hedgehogs, princesses or lethal drivers over this monstrosity. Please, won’t someone put me out of my misery? I need to be reincarnated into something cool. Those fruit cakes over there have more street cred than me right now.

 

And you know that anything with candied fruit is just lame.

© Sandra O’Driscoll 2012

 

Advertisements