At the end of our weekend, Rocky and I find ourselves at Incredible Dave’s for a classmate’s birthday party. A giggling, whispering gaggle of charming 5-year-olds lures me, against my better judgment, into the giant, brightly-colored castle-thingy, where all the “floors” are made of flimsy-feeling webbing and everything’s at weird angles. My daughter and her comrades then scramble away, leaving me to wander forever in this purgatory of primary colors.
As you can see by this self portrait, taken just before the heart attack, the ceilings and walls have begun caving inward, not unlike the trash compactor walls that almost killed Luke Skywalker and Han Solo. And those birthday party children were the hideous trash-compactor monster that pulled Luke underwater and tried to eat him.
After that really hot soccer mom brings me back with CPR, my own little trash compactor monster and I head on home, where I come upon – oh God, no.
It’s – it’s Polly Pocket! And she’s been – murdered!
And whoever it was chewed off her limbs.
She was found with a mysterious mangled waxy substance, also dead beside her. Crime Scene Investigator Barbie is on her way.