Satan's Little Helper

Yesterday I found hell. And much to my surprise, it wasn’t located in New Jersey. It was located at 609 Fifth Avenue, between Saks and the Shwarma King. I am referring, of course, to *American Girl (*Made in China), the place where little girls go to worship Satan and ritually stampede one another, while raping their parents pockets. The premise is similar to the Cabbage Patch Kids craze of the 80’s, except the doll looks like an actual child and the hair is made from real Taiwanese day laborers.

I decided to take my niece shopping for her 6th birthday and this was the place she wanted to go. As the doors open, I saw an army of rabid children, So, like any responsible adult, I started to toss kids left and right (kicking them while they were down) and made a B-line to the “Personal Shopper” area. The “Personal Shopper” aka.devil’s helper, on this particular day, was Robin and her eyes burned like fire from the River Styx.

Robin walked us through the entire catalogue of merchandise and after an hour of indecision, my niece picked out an idol that looked just like her (if she were a Stepford child or a Scientologist). She then proceeded to accessories the tits out of this doll with everything she could get her hands on. You can purchase everything from matching outfits, automobiles, wire hair brushes and gynecological stirrups. Sky is the limit!

There were many additional options, including tea time, group photos and a dual haircut for child and doll, but we had to take out a second mortgage on my wife’s ovaries just to clear the initial shopping spree, so we had to pass. As Robin exited back into her Hellraiser box, she came back with doll in hand and gave us the special instructions, which sounded strangely like the rules to a UFC cage match.

Rule 1: No eye gouging.
Rule 2: No hair pulling.
Rule 3: No hitting in the back of the head, or in this case…Do not cut the string behind the neck!

Apparently, if this string is severed, the head of the doll will fall off, not immediately, but over a few days.

My mind raced, and I secretly thought of all the great jokes to play on the kids wandering around store. Or better yet, if my niece was ever bad, Uncle Mung might just cut the cord and wear Mrs. Honey Bunny around his neck as punishment. But, I just reinforced the rules and she seemed to understand. Of course, her three year old brother will not adhere to such rules and will eventually kill this American (Chinese) Girl.

So as I get the credit card slip, and die a little on the inside, there is only one thing left to do… pick a name. If my manliness hadn’t already been stripped at the door, I was given the death blow when she solved the final piece of the puzzle. “I think I will call her Trixie**!”, she said.

I let out an audible gasp, bit my lip and welcomed Trixie Belle into the Mung family. Now I get to hear all the zany adventures of Trixie and my niece, from bathing together to exploring the black holes of distant galaxies. The good news is that I have pre-ordered the doorknob accessories kit for Christmas, and I am fairly confident that Trixie will be a very happy doll.

Joy!

**Inside joke alert. Trixie is gay and enjoys doorknobs up the arse.