The little girl — who looked a lot like Little Orphan Annie in the Broadway musical — crouched down before her collection of Barbie toys. She had everything, including the Barbie sportscar and the Barbie RV (both hot pink).

Barbie and Ken lay on the floor. The little girl picked up Barbie and made Barbie say, “C’mon, Ken. You’re hot. Let’s get it on.”

Ken doll said, “I’m blushing, honey. I don’t think I can.”

Barbie said, “Why not? Don’t you like me?” The little girl wiggled the doll in her hand.

Ken said, “I’m not… equipped that way, down there. There was an accident, you see. With a pair of hedge clippers. I was out working on my plants when I slipped. Oops. There goes Mr. Happy.”

The little girl lowered her voice to mimic a man’s voice.

Barbie said, “Let me see…” The little girl pulled down Ken’s pants, revealing a smooth plastic expanse where his penis should be. “Oh my… That is tragic. But we can still rub bodies.”

The little girl pushed the two dolls together at the waist, making frantic moaning and groaning noises from the side of her mouth.

“It’s no good,” Ken gasped. “I feel nothing.”

“That’s too bad,” Barbie pouted. “I was just starting to feel something. Hey, I’ve got an idea. Let’s do some coke.”

“I’ve got plenty of cocaine!” Ken exclaimed happily. The little girl took a thimble of sugar and poured it over Barbie’s and Ken’s heads.

“That’s great!” Barbie shouted. “Mmm… Snort snort. Mmm… Delicious! I think I’m really riding the dragon now!”

Mom came to the door of the basement and shouted, “Lori-lynn! You in there!? School’s in an hour! Get your ass moving!”

The little girl put down her dolls sadly. Then snatched them up again. She decided she was going to bring them to school, consequences be damned.

In the schoolyard, Mrs. Bueller, a teacher, came over to the little girl, who was proudly showing off her Barbie and Ken dolls to her friends. Mrs. Bueller snatched the dolls out of the little girl’s hands.

“Hey! What gives?”

“No outside toys during recess,” Mrs. Bueller said primly. “The school has to authorize everything you play with. I’ll return these to you after a 2-week waiting period.”

As the little girl listened, she grew angrier and angrier and dark purple clouds massed above her and Mrs. Bueller. The clouds grew dense, threatening. They were so low in the air it was almost impossible for them to be there, but there they were, in plain sight.

“By the power of Xylintir!” the little girl cried.

Lightning bolts struck Mrs. Bueller, frying her instantly to a black crisp. The little girl ran forward, scooped up her dolls, and ran away into the distance, chasing impossible dreams.

the end