AN: If memory serves, he's done something like this before. Memory does not serve as to when. Long Halloween? Dark Victory? One of those, I think.
Christineoftheopera-He certainly was.
What are little girls made of? What are little girls made of?
Scarecrow leaned back in his chair, looking at Raggedy Ann.
Raggedy Ann was fairly creepy, really, with that painted mouth and those wide, unnatural eyes. And the way it always smiled, even when being cut open.
Fucking dolls.
Pediophobia?
NO. I just think it's creepy.
Of course you do.
Shut up, Jonny.
He plopped it down on the table , picked up a scalpel, shoved the dress up, and sliced into the white fabric below the embroidered red heart. Stuffing bubbled up and he plucked it out with long fingers and set it aside.
He picked up a small, pressure-activated capsule and eased it into the doll's body, in just the right place for little arms to squeeze it. He crammed the stuffing back in-gently, gently, no need to have a bulge somewhere-and stitched it back up, nice and neat.
There. The last one. Finally.
He yawned, patted the doll on the head, and went upstairs to go to bed.
Sugar and spice and everything nice, that's what little girls are made of.
THE END