Okay a confession. Yesterday I wrote that I used to be a dealer in Barbie dolls. That’s not the case. I’ve never bought or sold contraband Barbies. I thought it would be funny to write a story from the perspective of somebody with that kind of background.
     The truth is that I’m just an ordinary man in Seattle with 1.4 children and a wife and a garage and an average amount of debt suitable for our position in life.  I’m normal. Almost. I do, however, play with Barbies. That’s my other confession. I play with Barbies and make plays with Barbies. When Barbara (just a coincidence, I swear) has fallen asleep beneath some piece of chick-lit, I sneak out of bed and into my study where I quietly lock the door and pull out two Barbie dolls who I position at a table. Then I write script after script of what they’re doing and saying. I imagine a string that’s pulled in their back and this is what they come up with: 

Barbie Blue: When will it end ?

Barbie Bardot: What ?

Barbie Blue: It.

Barbie Bardot: It ?

Barbie Blue: You see the problem is with that tiny little word “it”. That tiny little word that’s like a keyhole that you stick your eye up against and you try to peek through it but you don’t see much of anything. 

Barbie Bardot: I had my eyes tested last week. The optometrist said that I have perfect vision. I know it.

Barbie Blue: Your last word is a keyhole that I use to peer into the meaning of the rest of your words but I don’t see much of anything. “Vision” that’s interesting. I think of an optometrist with different versions of angelic visions contained in his parking-meter sized eye-tester that goes up flush against your face. The eye-tester flashes different visions of paradise in front of your eye. “Is this better ? Or this ? Now how about this or this ?” You see the Mohammadean heaven and then the Christian heaven flicks up in front of your eye and then the Buddhist heaven clicks in place. Which is the perfect vision ? Which is the eye of the needle that we can ram our perfect paradise through ?

Barbie Bardot: I’m waiting to go shopping.