A Creepier Doll

“I Require Corn Flakes.”

“Mmm. Great. Get ‘em yourself.”

“I Cannot Reach Your Larder, Little Girl. Retrieve Them For Me.” Her little glass eyes narrowed into slits. I grabbed the box of cereal and poured it into a bowl before sliding the breakfast across the table.

“You want some milk, too?”

“I Only Drink The Blood Of Virgins.” She replied simply, picking up a corn flake out of the bowl. She inspected it briefly before consuming it.

“That’s nice,” I said, trying to kill the conversation and go back to reading the paper. Most of the news was boring, except for an article on a newly discovered way to treat Ebola sores.

“This World Must Burn For The Manifold Of Its Sins.”

“Yeah. I’ll get right on that.”

“Oh, Cleanse It, Little Girl! Cleanse This World In Fire Unending!”

“Shut up and eat the damn cornflakes.”

***

Rick was standing in the doorway of the cubicle farm when I got to work.

“Heeeeeey sport, you got those proofs for me yet?”

“No Rick. Excuse me.”

“Yeah, sure, just one more thing…” he continued to talk. I hate people who stand in doorways. Things I also hate include:

Movie novelizations; stores that don’t have bathrooms, not being able to wash my hands when I want to, people who stare at me, cleaning aisles at supermarkets, MTV, when my nails break; nail polish that doesn’t dry quickly enough, when I buy the lightest foundation and it’s still too dark for my skin, broken sidewalks, pens that stain your hands, comic strips that survive for years and years without being funny, especially Mark Trail, pencils that aren’t mechanical, when rubber bands break, dust, dead bugs, bugs in general, especially ones that buzz, overpriced book sales, when I can’t open jars, when makeup disintegrates or when foundation crumbles and gets all over your clothes cuz that’s really hard to get out, when bookstores don’t restock, that one unwrapped tootsie roll you always find in tootsie roll bags, when notebooks fall apart, people moving my things, movie novelizations, which I already said, but I really, really don’t like them, accidentally stapling my finger, how you can never find anything in phonebooks, 3D stickers, really tacky presents that people give you and you can’t get rid of, the way glue eventually solidifies, people who are really obnoxiously loud during movies, Christmas wreaths because they always fall apart, tape and sticker residue, when plastic things crack, ugly little decorative boxes that people keep around forever, the way thermoses or water bottles eventually smell, how when you wash out a cup and drink from it tastes like soap, snow globes, hugs that last waaay too long even though you really didn’t want them in the first place…

This is what I was thinking about while Rick, who I guess is technically my boss, was talking at me. Eventually he slid a stupid grin across his face and stopped talking, but I didn’t notice because I was half-heartedly trying to make his stupid checkered novelty tie burst into flames by staring at it. Finally, he moved to one side and I scooted past as quickly as possible.

My job is the typical office nonsense. I sit at a desk and stare down tacky knick knacks people have given me, sometimes surfing the internet, rarely doing actual work. Most of the time I just make mental lists of all the things I hate and day dream about bubble bath.

I ducked out of work early, grabbing the left over layout proofs and dropping them in the trunk of my car, hoping to ‘forget’ about them for the weekend. When I got home, the doll was in the hall, holding a tray.

“Cupcakes. I Have Crafted Them In Fires Unending.” The doll wore pink oven mitts over her hands and a miniature pink apron over her pink frilly dress.

“…uh, that’s actually kind of awesome. What flavor are they?”

The doll stared at them for a moment, “Cupcake Flavored.”

I shrugged, “Good enough. Let’s watch TV.”

I flopped down on the couch next to the doll after I had changed into pajamas and bunny slippers.

“They Put The Son Of Man To Bleed Upon A Cross. And Then They Took The Cross And Marched It For War And Terror And Agony All Across The Creation Of The Lord. Tell Me Then How The World Is Not Wicked?”

“Mmm. I dunno. Hand me a cupcake, will you?” I took a cupcake off a plate of them sitting on the coffee table in front of us where I had proper up my bunny slippers. It was delicious and moist. The doll was busy watching a commercial for some sort of skin care product. A woman lay on a bed of crimson sheets, naked and smiling. French script faded in, proclaiming “Reverse time.” The doll’s face wrinkled in disgust.

“You Are All Hollow Creatures In My Eyes. You Could No More Undo Your Sins Than You Could Turn Out The Sun.”

“Mmm. What are we watching?”

“The Fall Of Mankind.”

“Is The Simpsons on yet?”

“This Is The Wickedness You Must End. You Must Destroy These Whores Of Babylon.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that after The Simpsons.”

“When I Walked With The Wife Of Lot She Cursed That Sodom And Gommorah For The Injustices Placed Upon Her Daughters. And Yet They Lay With Their Father, Her Husband. Tell Me Then How The World Is Not Wicked?”

“I dunno. I’m gonna have another cupcake.”

***

There was an awful taste in my mouth when I woke up. This is a common occurrence, but this morning I felt like I’d swallowed too much spit and the taste was making me sick to my stomach. It was Monday, and that alone is enough to make it a terrible day.

When I rolled over, my alarm clock was blinking an angry set of numerals at me, and with a terrifying horror, I realized I’d overslept. I threw on my clothes, grabbed my bag and ran out of the house. As I unlocked my car, I noticed the new addition of bird crap to the roof. I remembered how much I truly hate birds.

Sliding into the driver’s seat I gripped the wheel tightly and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down.

“You Must Leave Now Or You Shall Be Late For Your Reckoning.”

“Holy flipping fuck flapjacks what the shit!?”

The doll was sitting in the passenger seat, already buckled in. She raised her eyebrows.

“What the hell are you doing here!?”

“My Purposes Are Not For You To Discover.”

I briefly considered smashing her porcelain face into the dashboard, but decided it was more important to get to work on time.

“Fine. Screw it. Let’s go.”

***

I’d skipped breakfast, but was looking forward to an icy cold chai tea at the chain coffeehouse right across from my office building. I was almost certain I’d be late, but dammit I needed caffeine. Running into the coffeehouse, I quickly realized my mistake. The place was packed to the gills with yuppie financiers and office-people.

“Uhm,” I blurted out, tapping the man in front of me in line on his shoulder, “Look sir I’m having a really terrible day and I really just want some chai it takes them like five seconds to make it could I please go ahead of you?” The gamble on human decency was a hopeless one; the man laughed in my face.

I stood in line regardless, desperate to get the taste out of my mouth, as soccer moms and pencil ties got their low fat mocca-whachachinos with twelve different kinds of spices, panic rising steadily within me. Finally, the last suit stepped away from the counter.

“Hiicedchailattepleasekeepthechange.” I slid a five across the smooth counter and the cashier took it with a bored look on her face before calling back my order. It only took them about five seconds to make, as I had promised the man in front of me. it was mostly ice and a total rip off, but it was one of the few things on this planet that I loved. Ah, delicious chai tea… I could almost taste it as I turned around, only to have a pencil-skirted business woman shove into me, sending the tea flying backwards to completely soak my blouse.

“Wwwatch it,” hissed the woman, leering over me like some sort of anthropomorphized boa constrictor. I glanced at my watch. I was officially late.

Rick was nowhere to be seen as I slid into the cubicle farm, and it was with some relief that I collapsed into my own little boxy office domain.

“Heeeey, sport. Got those proofs for me?” Rick. Standing in my cubicle door way space thingie. There was no escape now. I was trapped.

“Uhhh… they’re in my car.” It was only a half lie.

Rick’s plasticky face seemed to melt a little bit, in a mockery of actual human sadness.

“I’m sorry to hear that, sport. I need those proofs by at least 5:00 PM today. Big meeting. Higher-ups would probably want to see heads roll if they weren’t done.” The parody of threatening. But I couldn’t lose my job. Fuck me fuck me oh my god those fucking proofs. My internal monologue screamed profanities as Rick went on and on about goddamn synergy or something. Finally he left, and I took off running back down the stairs, out the door, and back to my car.

The doll watched in silence as I popped the trunk of my car and grabbed the manila proof folders.

“Don’t even say anything.”

Back in my tiny little cubicle, as I scrambled to finish up the proofs, I was subjected to a veritable parade of idiocy as my co-workers decided to bombard me with inane monologues about their pathetic weekend lives. There was Sally from filing with her stupid slutty blouse talking about how many shots she did at Bennigans and how I should soooo totally come next time so that maybe I could finally land a guy, and how long had it been anyway since I’d, you know? Done it? With a guy? Then there was creepy Mike from accounting talking about how he spent Saturday at the park, just feeding the birds… they like bread, you see… and watching the children play in the sandbox… so innocent… Oh, and let’s not forget about Brenda from sales, talking about her little son Timmy’s big soccer game, and how he was cheated out of the best play she had ever seen by the stupid referee, and how she knew just how to get back at him… how? Why, sleep with him and ruin his marriage of course! It’s all so simple.

It was at roughly lunch time that I realized that all my co workers are purely, unrepentantly inhuman evil monstrosities. Of course, I didn’t have lunch, I was too busy working through the proofs even though I really wanted a sandwich. I contemplated suicide for about an hour after finishing the proofs. It was half past four, and I was thoroughly ready for this day to be over. I gathered up the stupid proofs and I walked to Rick’s office.

“Heeeey, sport! Got those proofs for me?”

I dropped them on his desk next to his tacky drinking bird toy with a resounding thud, “Look Rick, I am officially having the day from hell. I had to work through lunch to get these done. Can I please go home early today?”

His fake face warped into something like concern, “Hmm… well, sit down for a sec, sport.” Defeated, I collapsed into an uncomfortable ‘ergonomic’ chair in front of Rick’s desk.

“Listen kid, I appreciate all the work you’ve been doing… but here at H and M… well, I like to think of this as more than just a job. We’re a family. And a family looks out for its own. So, when I hear about you skipping meals, I… naturally become concerned. I mean, you’re a very skinny young lady and well…”

He took a pamphlet from a stack of them he had on his desk and slid it across to me. In big emblazoned letters it read ‘ANOREXIA AND YOU!’ above a smiling group of pre-teen lacrosse playing girls.

“Do we understand each other?” asked Rick.

I merely picked up the pamphlet, got up, and turned around.

“Oh! One more thing, sport.” I turned around to see Rick looking me up and down, as if appraising a piece of fruit, staring at the coffee stain on my blouse.

“You should probably take this one too.” He handed me a pamphlet with a picture of a picturesque brook running down a mountainside. The title read simply: “Personal Hygiene in the Workplace.”

I stared at him, concentrating very hard on his stupid fucking tie and his stupid face and his stupid fake emotions and his stupid pamphlets. I felt hate -pure, unadulterated hate- rise up inside of me and as I was concentrating, a thin trickle of blood began to run out of his nose.

“Oh! Excuse me, I think I got a nose bleed, just let me get some tissues and-“

And then his head exploded.

It sprayed back, across his desk, bits of brain matter scattering neatly arranged pamphlets and blood flecking a framed picture of a puppy holding a Frisbee in its drooly mouth. Bits of bone and blood and goo splattered my face and my glasses.

I didn’t even scream. I just turned around, and the doll was standing there.

“Now You Have Come Into Your Birthright.”

I sank to the floor, not even speaking.

“Now You See How The World Is Made Right By Your Hands.”

“…What?”

“Your Power Is Immeasurable. You Are The Ancient Beast Promised By John. You Are A Plague Upon All Sin.”

“Be honest with me. Am I the Antichrist?”

The doll was quiet for a minute before taking my glasses and wiping them off on her pretty pink dress, silky blonde hair bobbing in crimson ribbons.

“The Lord Sent Me To Witness When Time Was Still Black. I Have Seen Empires Crumble. They Put Me In A Box And Sent Me To You. And Then I Knew The Answer. Tell Me Then How the World Is Not Wicked? Because You Shall Make It So.”

I stood up slowly.

“Reach Out Your Will And Crush Sin.” I thought of all my evil co workers, and there was a series of loud popping noises outside the office door, accompanied by thumps like sacks of potatoes hitting the floor. I walked out through the gore and madness, down the stairs, still spreading my consciousness. I could hear the thumping through the walls, but that was getting boring, so I sent them running through plate glass windows like lemmings. On the first floor, there was a man standing in the door talking to someone. His head opened like a cantaloupe and the revolving door thumped against his corpse, its revolutions halted as I stepped over the body and out into the air.

I remembered the bird crap on my car, and my spirit went up to the skies. It rained birds, tiny bodies thwacking against cement with a satisfying squish. I crossed the parking lot to the coffee house. There was a long line, but I didn’t really feel like waiting, so I started ripping off limbs. I got to the front of the line, and the cashier girl’s mouth hung open.

“Excuse me, may I please have an iced chai latte please? Not too much ice, please.”

The cashier didn’t move.

“NOW,” I commanded, and with a sudden burst of activity, the coffee house staff started making the best chai latte of their careers.

I started humming a little tune as I sipped my latte and walked out of the coffee house. I considered that sandwich I was planning on earlier as I started random fires throughout the city. Finally, I sat down on a bench in the nearby park.

This is where I am now, spreading out, heaving across the city as I make buildings shudder and tumble. The grass is peaceful here. The doll is sitting next to me, humming along with the tune in my head. There is a particular sandwich shop on 43rd Street that makes an excellent turkey and avocado sandwich. It’s raining ashes now and I can hear people screaming as they burn alive. I think I’ll go get that sandwich.