The Toy Patrol

“Barb, where are the car keys?” he asked, watching her decide what to wear.

She frowned. The keys were where they always were – resting in the ignition of the pink convertible. Her pink convertible. Everything they owned was hers – the convertible, the dream house. He’d brought nothing to the union but plastic good looks, clothing and a healthy-sized ego.

“In the ignition – as always,” she said.

Ken slapped his forehead. “Right! Where else? Okay, gotta run; later, baby.”

Yeah, you’ve such a busy day ahead, pushing paper around Uncle Joe’s office, she thought unkindly.

That position, too, had resulted from his marriage to Barb. Her uncle was a decorated general on Mattel World. Filling endless supply requisitions was all the feckless Ken was good for.

Depressed, she turned to her wardrobe. The hardest part of her day was deciding which of her many outfits to wear. Each article of clothing hearkened back to a former life – airline stewardess, movie star, go-go dancer.

So many incarnations.

She felt old.

Yet, she looked the same: large dark eyes; jutting breasts above a tiny waist. As for her ass, there was plenty of junk in that trunk.

It was good to be Barb.

So why the sadness?

Annoyed, she decided on a cheerleader outfit; then she heard pounding on the front door.

“Barbie! Open up!”

Her friend, Midge, looking anxious, pushed through the cardboard door of Barb’s dream house. “Barbie, they’re coming! We should have known! Did we really expect they’d leave us in peace?”

“Midge, you have ten seconds to calm yourself and tell me what this is about. Jeepers, I haven’t even had my coffee; worse, I haven’t yet figured out what I’m going to wear today!”

“The Toy Patrol is coming!”

The news staggered Barb. Not the Toy Patrol! They’d liberated themselves from the Old Order when GI Joe and the Transformers had joined forces, subduing and imprisoning the instigators of so much misery in the universe. The result: a better world – Mattel World.

“Are you sure?”

Midge nodded. “I checked the kids’ toy box. The Brangelina dolls, the Paris Hilton action figure, they’re missing!”

Barb walked over to her own kids’ toy box. Slightly tipping the lid, she listened for the chatter she should have heard. Silence. Opening the box, she saw it was empty. Gone were the Hillary and Bill dolls, complete with boxing gloves. Gone, too, the George Bush doll with its fractured pronunciation of ‘nuclear.’

Was this the end? Were Barbie and her friends going to be rounded up by the Toy Patrol, consigned to toy chests in an alternate universe?

She’d die fighting first!

This was her universe, her beloved Mattel World. Never was this universe to be retaken by the Old Order. Here she’d make her last stand!

Resolutely, she marched back to the bedroom. Tossing aside the cheerleader outfit, she reached inside the wardrobe, pulling out camouflage gear.

Guerilla Barbie, accessorized with bazooka, went out to greet the enemy.

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Word Count: 496

Author’s Note: Trying to kill three birds with one stone this week!

This flash fiction was written in response to three challenges – Mark Baron’s Woegman’s World of Witty Wonder Thursday Trope (found here); ThainInVain’s weekly Wednesday challenge (found here); and BeKindRewrite’s Monday Inspiration challenge (found here).

Mark’s prompt was to write a trope on ‘Never Was This Universe‘ – a take on alternate universes; ThainInVain’s prompt was to craft a 500 word or less tale in which the words ‘You have ten seconds…’ was utilized; and BeKindRewrite’s prompt was to fashion a story in which certain words were utilized – of the words provided, I chose ‘Toy Patrol.’

This is a rather silly, fantastical tale, but I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.