Talking Head

A year ago I had my whole life in front of me. Sitting in Hamleys, knowing that I was top-of-the-range, I thought I had it all. I was expensive though. I couldn’t tell you the number of times I was lifted up only to hear, ‘how much?’ then, put smartly back. They didn’t even knock anything off on Black Friday. I was such a good-looker. Beautiful blond curls; the cutest little pink frock; white ankle socks and black patent leather strap-over shoes. You know, the kind posh kids wear. Buzz Lightyear, who sat next to me, said I was like Marilyn Monroe. I think he had the hots for me.

I vividly remember the Thursday before Christmas. The shop was packed. I thought, surely today will be the day. As soon as I saw them I knew they would buy me. You could tell they had money. She was wearing a lot of gold jewellery. She looked a bit tarty in an up-market sort of way. He was nice; smooth, tanned skin, blue eyes and a lovely overcoat. Too good for her, I thought. I was lifted gently from the shelf. His hands were so soft.

‘Charlotte will love her!’

‘A bit pricey,’ replied the tarty one.

‘No! She’s perfect. We’ll take her.’

Before I knew it I was gift wrapped and on the back seat of a Jaguar XJ.

As I lay under the Christmas tree I thought the big day would never arrive. When it did, Charlotte tore the paper off the box excitedly, took me out and examined me. ‘Can she talk?’ she lisped.

‘I don’t think so, darling,’ laughed her father.

‘Does she wee?’

‘No Charlotte, she doesn’t,’ exclaimed her mother.

Talking Head

With that, Charlotte threw me on a pile of discarded toys. A proper little madam! After lunch she picked me up again and dragged me around by the hair for most of the afternoon. She did this day after day. By New Year's Eve my head was like a billiard ball, I had marks on my face and my clothes were ripped. She lost interest in me and I was consigned to the nursery cupboard. I thought she had forgotten about me but a few weeks ago, she took me out. Was I back in favour? No such luck. She amused herself for an hour, by scratching my right eyebrow off with her thumbnail. Little minx! Luckily, I don’t feel physical pain but the indignity hurts.

Teddy, who’s my best friend, has sustained a bit of damage too. He told me that they might have a clear out, after Christmas this year. If we’re lucky, we could end up in a charity shop. Apparently you get a nice class of customer at Oxfam.