There I was, an 8 year old girl, rolling on the floor screaming.
"Calm down!" My mother yelled, wrangling me as if I was a cow in the wild west. It was my birthday and I should be happy; but I wasn't. All the presents I received were duds. I got a book and a jewelry box, but that is not what I asked for.
Weeks before I discovered the new talking Barbie. My eyes were glued to the brightly colored ad. It was the limited addition "Talks a lot Tammie!" It was the newest member to the Barbie family. Tammie could talk, sing, and respond to just about anything. For days I reminded my parents about her, but obviously they didn't get the hint.
"I want it, I want it, I want it!" I squealed, wiggling my way out of my parents firm grip. It was a full on tantrum. How else was I supposed to get there attention? It was going to be my way, no highway options. Being in a rich family was a big advantage. As long as I stood my ground, they couldn't say 'no.'
"Honey, Daddy can't just can't make it appear," my father soothed.
"Then go to the store and by it! You make it appear, or I make your clients disappear!" I threatened. Business was everything to my dad.
"huhhhhh," he sighed, "Get in the car."
"Yay!" I rejoiced, what a great negotiator I was.
I returned home, clutching Talks a lot Tammie close to my chest. I poked the 'on' button, and my dad knew once he heard the squeaky voice that he'd would never forgive himself; that's why I ripped up the receipt.
"Hello, I am Tammie." Her voice was cold and robotic.
"Hi there Tammie!" I answered excitedly.
"Let us play," she responded plainly, "we can dance while I sing High School Musical." She began by humming, and slowly she moved into the words. I couldn't understand most of them, but that was just how Tammie sang.
After supper, I moved the play date to my room. We first played guess the lyrics- she was really good- then we danced.
After hours of fun, it was time to sleep. My eyes were sandy- scamming was really hard work.
"Let us play dance!" Tammie said loudly.
"No, Tammie, time to sleep." I grumbled.
"How are you?" Tammie asked.
"Time for bed!" Now I was getting annoyed.
"Let us play." She persisted. Now I was steamed. Every five seconds she said something. I rose from my Power Puff Girl bed spread and grabbed Tammie by the head.
"Hello there." she said loudly.
"Ugh!" I examined the figure for an off button. There wasn't one. There had to! I cried for my dad to look; he came up with the same results. We turned to the instruction manual.
"Eternally on for hours of fun," my mom read. In the background I could still hear Tammie's squeaky voice.
"Fix it Daddy!" I whined.
"This time Daddy can't fix it, Pumpkin." He comforted. The truth was to hard to take.
"Oh, surly we can show the store the receipt and return her." I cheered, thinking I reached victory.
"You mean with the one you ripped up?" My mom said, pulling shreds of paper from my winter coat. From that point we knew we were stuck with her. My karma had come back to haunt me. For punishment I have to spend my nights with pillows stuffed in my ears. But I can still here Tammie's faint voice...