Kari gripped the doll in her small hands. Who would call this thing a doll? she wondered.
The figure was incredibly ugly, the sort of ugly that is hard to describe with words that didn’t get you a bar of soap in the mouth. It was like a cross between a man and a crocodile that tried to eat a chainsaw. Nothing at all like Princess Bubbles. The Princess is a proper doll, Kari knew.
Princess Bubbles had been a proper doll, until Kari’s little brother chopped her royal head off. Maybe he was trying to be like this alien villain. Maybe play affected kids more than just by providing fun, were thoughts Kari might have had were she ten years older than she was. Being twelve–and mildly vindictive in character–she had one thing on her mind: revenge.
She took the ghastly figure and wrapped it in a small blanket. This was as much to conceal the kidnapping as it was to avoid having to look at the thing. She skipped down to the garage with bubbles in her heart, finding the hacksaw and setting the condemned on the wooded workbench.
“You made a poor choice of allies, my alien friend,” Kari said in a properly deep and European-sounding voice. Then she started cutting.
*Written as a response to the Sunday Photo Fiction May 28th prompt.