(Until someone tries to give me a nickname,I'll refer to my character as ___)
____ walked slowly to the dollhouse for some food. She sneezed a few times to get the dust out of her nose, and shook her body to get rid of the rest.
God, I hate these owners, why can't they treat toys the way they should be? Those cruel human monsters! Why must old toys like me be so broken? If two days old is considered 'old' to those..those...those freaks!
She shot her tail straight up and walked over to eat dog food, gritting her teeth to show how mad she was at these careless owners.
They're careless alright, in both definitions! Now I've got to find my leg, because those inhumane kids won't fix it for me, let alone find it!
She looked at the bandage that was her leg. A nurse doll had used another leg as a 'cast' for it, apparently from some toy that was broken and unfixable, who had dissapeared into the forbidden zone of dismay: the trash bin. Some say they lead to factories where they're disposed of to make new toys. ___ wished she didn't have such a cursed leg. She thought of the days in the windowshelf, her happy days. So many children would stare at her, eyes in awe. So many had wanted her, but then they came. She vividly remembered they words they had said:
"0o0o0o, lets get him!" "We can play hopsitlal!" "You mean 'hospital'" "yeah, whatever lets just rip him and 'fix him up!'"
Those were the dreadful words that got her here,to this hell hole. To others this may look like a haven, but she knew the lie. The kids' maid had stuck so many broken toys into the closet, some were even 'thrown out'. She shuddered at the thought. More were being thrown out, but not as much as she heard from another doll. Many people feared they the dreaded week called 'spring cleaning'.
"Thank goodness it isn't for another few months,"she muttered under her mouth.
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