A Toy Story

“Let us out!” I had to obey when the buckets called. It was like termites skritching in the woodwork of my brain. I absently dumped 12 gallons of brightly colored Legos on the Astroturf of the front porch and waited for the inspiration. “Better start wide. We’ll be huge.” “Okay, what color?” “Use us all. No chunk left behind.” “This is going to look like barf. But, you’re the boss.” Clear, pointy claws grew from stubby brown and green toes. I mashed plastic blocks together like a Rubik’s Cube master, twisting and sticking pieces at a furious pace. “Excuse me, you forgot something.” I snorted, “Sorry, mom wouldn’t appreciate it. Besides, I’m not building you a girlfriend.” As shoulders flowed into a bristling neck, the raw materials began to dwindle. “You don’t need ears. You’ve always been able to hear without anyway. How about black bushy eyebrows, and horns?” “Make sure you have enough yellow for teeth! And a spiky nose, too.” “Pickins are getting slim. There’s only enough yellow singles for fangs.” “Check the register. You left dozens of us down the grate, you know. Back when you drooled more.” “Yeah! I forgot about those! That’s where my long, skinny ones went.” I gathered up the stragglers from among the dust bunnies and raced back to the porch. “Whoa! Did you… grow?” “Pshhhfft. Don’t be silly. Now let’s have the fangs.” I completed the dental work and stood back to see what gravity was doing to my creation. A three foot tall mutant Godzilla stood before me, its plastic grimace fixed in mismatched colors. As I stared, an eyebrow fell off. It clearly tried to snarl at me. “Knock it off. I put you together, I can take you apart.” “Not so fast.” The voice had changed. Instead of coming from everywhere in the corners of my brain, this was a growling, localized and very grumpy voice right behind my forehead. My feet began to retreat into the living room, but I commanded them to stay put. After all, it’s only Legos. I put on a show of confident nonchalance, and eventually turned to walk away. “Yeowlp! JEEZ, I wish you wouldn’t sneak like that.” “What, it’s my house too. Whatcha doing?” “Nothing. I just built a monster. Go stand next to him, he looks hungry.” My sister ignored this. “Why is it slouching?” “It’s stalking you. Feed it some of those saltines and butter, its joints need grease.” “Whatever, moron.” I found myself starkly alone with Spiky again. “Let me just grab this eyebrow and…” I faked him out. He leaned at me while I fled into the living room and dropped the lone piece into the carpet. It wouldn’t be long. “Dammit! If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, take care of your Legos! My dad lurched barefoot onto the porch, upended Spiky into an empty bucket, and angrily put it under the basement stairs. “There! You’re grounded from those until you can be responsible.” “Phewf.”