It was cold. Barbie made a rude noise, declaring her hatred for that. Looking down at her peachy-brown plastic torso, she groaned. A small, purple and blue striped bikini covered the large mounds of plastic that jutted out from her chest, and her fake underwear covered butt.
The girl was gone...that was good. What was her name again? Sally? Cindy? Something like that. It started with an "Ssss" sound. Barbie stared around her hot pink and vibrant purple "dream house" for what seemed like the thousandth time that morning. Barbie cautiously poked her blonde head around the corner, and groaned once more. The window that the girl loved because it had a beautiful view of the highway was open and the frigid January air swooped in and surrounded her.
Barbie rolled her eyes and shivered. "Stupid girl," she mumbled, crawling off her straight-legged position on the couch. She winced, stretching her sore muscles. "Your mother has been on your case all week about closing that stupid thing." She sighed and did a glorious hair flip, before slouching over and scratching her butt as she wandered over towards her violet dresser next to her magenta bed.
Pulling out a large, green bulky sweater, she tugged it over her flowing blonde hair before reaching back in the drawer and pulling out a pair of green and pink checked pants. Doing up the Velcro around her petite waist, she looked once more around the deep purple walls. Her large wardrobe had been pushed backwards so that the doors faced the walls. Barbie sighed but she knew that, try as she might, it was simply too heavy for her. Then an idea struck her muddled brain.
"Ken!" she called, using her little-miss-sexy-and-seductive voice. "Sweetheart, I need a big, strong, sexy, muscled man to help me move my dresser!"
She chuckled as she waited for a response. They both knew full well that she'd lie on the bed and snack on rice crackers as he strained and grunted and sweated before finally getting it back the way it was. Then she would leap up, give him a kiss, and swill a bottle of laxatives before going to throw up the rice crackers.
Granted, the whole bulimia thing was bad for her pearly whites. Even the girl was noticing. Her mother, the stupid cow, was chalking it up to being old. Barbie snorted, and called out to Ken again.
Still no response.
What was going on with that man? Normally he waited on her hand and foot, and when she called his name he tripped over his own feet to get to her.
Barbie wandered over to the hole in the wall that led from her bed room to the kitchen. And there, she stopped cold, her blood turning to ice.
Ken stood in the middle of the kitchen, his back facing Barbie. A feminine pair of light peachy brown arms were wrapped around his shoulders as if they would never let go. Moans erupted from Ken and...who ever Ken was with. The pair of people turned sideways, and Barbie caught a glimpse of mystery woman.
It was Skipper! Barbie's sister!
While hardly amazed by Skipper's actions (Barbie had always thought that Skipper was a bit of a slut), she was bewildered that Ken had cheated on her! And with her own sister? It was as if Barbie and Ken had been made for each other.
Barbie gasped and her jaw dropped dramatically, as only a true Barbie Girl could. Skipper's eyes opened for a split second and it appeared she caught a glimpse of Barbie. She leapt away from Ken as if he were a live wire. Ken simply stood there, looking like a stoned deer in headlights; eyes half open, slightly dazed expression, and unmoving.
Skipper started to cry, her bendy arms trying in vain to reach her face to wipe away the tears. She blubbered out apologies, how it had just happened and it was an accident, and please don't hurt her.
Ken stood like a statue, arms still reaching to where Skipper had been moments before. He swiveled his head to look at Barbie and smiled fakely.
"Barbie!" he said, his arms twisting slightly towards Barbie. "How you doing, babe?"
"Can it, you...you...you...CAD!" Barbie huffed, throwing her slender arms into the air, nearly brushing the ceiling. She then turn to Skipper, a grotesque smile plastered on her face. "You," she breathed simply, her long finger unraveling from her hand and pointing at her sister. "Traitor."
And with that, Barbie launched herself at Skipper and a ninja-like attack, a vile scream ripping free from her lips as she flew through the air. A heavy thud as Skipper fell to the floor under Barbie's surprise attack. Her head bashed into the edge of the counter, and she slid down, blood smearing the beautiful hot pink siding.
Ken gaped at the scene in front of him. Barbie turned, agile as a cat, and glared at him. He and his muscular frame, un-anatomically correct man bits. Her smiled morphed into a strange grimace of sorts, and she emitted a long, animal like noise. She threw her fists widely, missing by miles.
He took a step back, bewildered, and threw his hands up as defense. Barbie smashed into his hand and fell to the floor, limp.
Ken overtly concerned nature got the best of him, and he leaned over Skipper, looking and listening for any signs of life. Quiet puffs of air reached his cheek, and he sighed, relieved. Barbie, on the other hand, was not making any noise at all. He carefully leaned over her, and put a hand on her neck, checking desperately for a pulse.
With a violent, "HI-YAH!" Barbie grasped Ken's wrist, and flung him over her head using his momentum to flip herself into a standing position. She brushed off her sweater daintily as Ken sat, stunned and rubbing his head, next to Skipper.
Barbie sauntered over, hand on plastic hips. "How long has this been going on, hmmmmmmmm?" she demanded, her voice high pitched and distorted through a gruesome grin.
The unconscious Skipper gave a weak moan and rolled over; the pool of blood she already lay in becoming even bigger. Ken simply stared, mouth agape, at his "girlfriend".
Barbie paced back and forth in front of the pair, ranting about her struggles as a mother figure to Tommy and Kelly, and how all she wanted was a steady family behind her. She finally paused in front of Ken, hands on hips, teary eyed. "And you," she breathed venomously, her long fingers nails waving threateningly. "I want your stuff out of my wardrobe by sundown."
Ken nodded dumbly, still numb from the severe crack on the head he had gotten moments before. Skipper moaned again, and rolled back.
Barbie turned on her baby pink stiletto clad heel and strolled away. "Oh yeah," she called nonchalantly over her shoulder. "You still have to move the wardrobe away from the wall."
Barbie stomped down the plush carpeted hallway, arms swinging wildly as she fumed about her "boyfriend" and "sister". Her long stride quickly carried her to the last room of the house: a large, aquamarine bathroom, complete with pink plastic shower/tub combo, a purple toilet, a pink sink, and a small, pink and purple spotted dog bathtub. She slammed the white door behind her and perched precariously on the edge of the tub, rubbing her swollen eyes wearily.
Fresh tears still leaked out of her eyes, and she struggled to wipe them away. Her breath came out in jerking sobs, her body wracked with painful jerks from side to side. Her green sweater was drenched, so Barbie peeled it off and flung it into the tub behind her. Her purple and pink bikini from earlier still covered her, and she shivered.
How long ago that had seemed, she thought as she grabbed her red chenille robe from where it had fallen off the door handle. She draped it over her thin frame, and wobbled over to the sink. The cool water seemed to help her think, and she stared at her red rimmed eyes in the warped plastic mirror. Her face seemed twice as large as it was normally, and wider than a freight train, with a large nose and thin lips.
Barbie frowned at herself in the mirror angrily. I'm just to fat to have him love me, her thoughts buzzed in her skull, stinging her multiple times. He'll never love a fat girl. NEVER!
With that, Barbie raced over to the mauve toilet and stuck two fingers down her throat. The response was instantaneous. The bile heaved its way up her throat, and into the bowl as she wretched and gagged, throwing up all her bad feelings into the bowl. She knew from experience that it would do her no good to cut herself. She could not feel relief if fresh blood did not bubble up to the surface of her cut. You cannot bleed if you have no blood.
Barbie sat back, exhausted. Her nose stung from the bile, and her throat ached. But she felt calmer and peaceful, safer almost. She gagged once more, but knew there was nothing left inside of her. She curled up into a ball, and wrapped her arms around herself, holding herself together. The tears came once more, hot and stinging. She wiped them away, but new ones would slide out.
It felt like hours before she stopped, the tears all dried inside of her. She fell into a fitful sleep on the floor, and waited for better times.
A loud rap at the door roused the semi-unconscious Barbie from her passed-out-edness. "Baby?!" the worried voice called. Barbie grimaced and smacked her lips. They were dry and tasted as if she had vomited slightly into her mouth and it had dried. One gag and tooth brushing later, she unlocked the large white door, and swung it wide open. Ken had been leaning against the door, waiting for this moment, and flew head first into the room.
His legs flailed around from where he had landed, a** over tea kettle in the tub. "Can we talk?" he wailed, losing every amount of self respect he ever had for himself in the process. Suddenly, his legs over-corrected his posture and he flipped out of the tub, landing on his butt next to it. He winced then gave Barbie an award-winning expression: Lower lip hanging so far out it looked like he could trip on it, eyes watering, and eyebrows scrunched together, so it looked like one long caterpillar on his face.
What may have been meant to look like hurt after she had left, really just looked like he needed to take a dump really badly. Barbie stifled a chuckle.
"Baby girl come back and speak to us!" he exclaimed, tears spilling out. "Me and Skipper are so sorry."
"That'll be the day," she grumbled, storming out the door, her high heels clicking down the fake linoleum flooring. She emerged into the kitchen and posed, one hand on the hip that jutted out, a mean expression on her plastic features. "Alright," she announced to no one in particular. "Talk."
Skipper immediately started to bawl, her green eyes spilling enough tears to drown a whale. Ken put a protective arm around her small waist, and nuzzled his lips into her downy soft blonde hair.
