Most borthers torment their sisters by trashing their dolls, for Meg and I, it had always been a bonding experience. There was the doll that we joyfully yanked its extending hair out to find the spring coiled around her locks. As well, there was Barbie, she was strapped to the bottom of my skateboard, which was strung from the back of my bike. Up and down I would ride down Third Street until evenything that extended past her forehard was smooth and gleeming. Other dolls had their eyes plucked out, while others were gneral mistreated for out enjoyment. But the coup de’gras of doll mutilation was Meagan’s Michelle doll.
I am sure that everyone remembers (or at least be forced to remember) Full House, the sacchrine sitcom headed by Bob Sagat (played Danny Tanner) and launched the media Juggernaut that are the Olson twins. In the marketing genious of the Full House brand, they put out a Michelle-ish doll that when you pushed a button or squeezed her hand she’d spout off with one of her tolken lines from the show. After recieving this doll as a gift, either Meg or myself decided (mostly likely, it was me) that this Michelle doll, with all of her witticisms, was deserving of rapid and repeated trips down the stairs of our house.
Not that trashing a perfectly good toy was a reward unto itself, we got more sick pleasures from this activity; apparently during one of its multiple trips downstairs, the doll’s voice system was damaged. Michelle’s little sayings had changed and she would now chime in with our favorite, “Thank you for the potty-pie” which is a riot if you are the ages of seven and twelve as Meagan and I were at the time.
Sadly, while trying to induce further Michelle sayings via the stairs, her ability to thank us for the potty-pie or say anything for that matter ceased, she remained mute until torn apart of trashed. This is why people should be mindful of seeking perfection because at some point you’ll lose what enjoyment you had, and only then will you realize what treasure you had.