Ken’s head made a satisfying pop when pulled from his body, followed by a delicious squish-squash as molars met polyvinyl chloride. I loved decapitating Ken, but it came at a price. One day, me and the other Douillard Road guttersnipes were playing Barbie-Goes-to-the-Circus. We used the sewer drain as a tightrope. After a death-defying leap, Ken landed safely on the curb but his now-bobbling noggin splashed into the abyss. With a coat hanger and a deft hand, mom retrieved it. It poached for weeks in a jar of alcohol. Afterwards, Ken was only a pale version of his former self.
Inspired by
Our Drug of Choice. Image by
Passagems on Etsy.
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