• 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 a "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 lay 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.