Friday, October 31, 2003

Barbie converts to Wiccan

In homage to Denise Duhamel's poetry collection, "Kinky"

Every Sunday, being the good girl she was, Barbie went to church. She would bring out her most conservative pink outfit with Sunday best bonnet. Yet though she sat through every sermon, she had always felt there was something incomplete about Christianity. First of all, the Apostles had such horrible outfits!

One Saturday morning while passing by a used book store, she happened to see an ornately decorated leatherbound book that seemed to call her name. "Book of Spells" it said. She thumbed through the various elixirs and potion recipes. Her fingers stopped on a love potion: "guaranteed to bring all the men you want your way". She had always been a fine cook, because she had read the way to a man's heart was his stomach. But in all those years, not once did Ken comment on her fine cooking. Grant it, he didn't have a mouth nor a tongue, much less a stomach, but he could have at least tried to spoon some of her bouillabaisse down the hole in his neck.

She brought the book home and immediately began forming her outfit. She couldn't perform spells without the perfect outfit. She prided herself in creating her identity in clothing. She opens the toy chest bursting with pink chiffon, pink feathers, pink gowns. Let's see, we can use the rain slicker for a cape, and the gold pants from disco Barbie. Ooh, and I should probably wear my hair down and maybe braid a few strands to get that hippie/mother earthy kind of look. There.

Now for the ingredients: dragonfly (there was the dragonfly hair clip), water, a locket of your own hair (a pile of hair from when the little girl's brother gave RV Beach Barbie a crew cut so she could play with his GI Joe's.) She borrowed one of GI Joe's war helmets to use for a cauldron and placed it on the potpourri candle. Bring to boil, simmer, cool, then drink.

She looked at the concoction for a moment. It didn't look like anything. It didn't smell like anything either then she remembered she couldn't smell. "Here goes nothing", she says, as she pops her head off and pours the entire brew down. Suddenly, the room starts to spin, her head wobbling in its socket and she feints into darkness.

She awakens to someone stroking her hair, another breathing heavily on her neck, some are massaging her feet, and yet another ravaging her body with kisses. If her hard plastic exterior could tingle it would have with exhilaration. She was in the Ken bucket and they couldn't get enough of her! They jostled for position to get close to her, get on top of her, touch her skin. She screamed the name of God, Jesus and all the saints. The bucket rocked back and forth to their gyrations causing it to tip over. As they tumbled out, the liquid potion trickled out her hip sockets down her inner thighs.

She lay there watching the moonlight hit their glistening bodies and thought she would be missing mass today.

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