I find myself sitting here at the computer after being plucked from the top of a wardrobe (dusty wardrobe, cough, cough.)
Before I was plonked here, I was subjected to all manner of stupid photographs. I am not looking my best at the moment and the last thing I wanted was to be bloody photographed, sheesh. You can even see my bloomers! What kind of respect am I being shown?
Apparently I have not been of any use for many a year now, although 'herself' has assured me that I am a much-loved memory. Yes memory, here I am in all my stuffed glory, yet I am referred to as a bloody memory.
'Herself' has always been quite ungrateful in appreciating me, but after seeing what happened to the others I consider myself quite lucky (insert shudder here).
My name is 'The Doll' or 'Her' or 'You' or if she is feeling generous 'Raggedy', creative sod wasn't she. I was given to 'herself' on the day of her birth, so I have decided that is when I was born too. If you try and imply that I am older than nearly 27, then I will send a horde of Chuckie dolls after you, just saying. The uncle of 'Herself' bought me for her and I still haven't exacted my revenge on that fella for doing that to me.
Herself was never a lover of dolls and if you knew what she had done to her poor sister's dolls you would weep, weep I tell you. For some reason she has taken good care of me, although I still await a new pair of felt lips, I have only waited 20 years for them (HINT).
If I where her I wouldn't treat me so shabbily, especially now that I have this new outlet. Herself maybe should think about some of the things I have overheard, like the accident she had in church that time (it wasn't a wet your pants incident). Then again she does scare the crap out of me and although she says she is a reformed character, I don't think I should risk it!
Arggh she is coming! Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
.............................post written by A Little Piece of Me
