Decapitated Doll Disambiguation

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I shouldn’t have been surprised to open the front door and find a decapitated Barbie head on the front porch, her dead eyes covered by loose, knotted hair.

And, yet, I was surprised. Enough for the high-pitched squeal of horror to be heard clearly by the no-longer-trying-to-pretend-they-were-innocent gaggle of giggling youngsters grouped across the street.

The surprise was genuine. The squeal less so. To the young kids in my neighborhood, I’ve been around as long as they’ve been alive. I’m also the only nonparental adult who’s likely to do more than hello in passing. I’m known for my silly jokes and possibly the best fake death from cap pistols or misfired Nerf darts in history.

All of which goes a long way toward explaining why I stopped to have a chat with a young boy neighbor and several girl neighbors when Buzz, The Garbage Disposal Who Walks Like A Dog, and I happened to pass by and saw them running over a naked Barbie with their bikes.

So I had nothing but happy thoughts for the Barbie beat down in progress and said as much. Often and through much laughter. Along with several appalling suggestions for more inventive recreation.

When it came time to dispose of the evidence, that is put away their toys, I guess it was only natural to remember the goofy guy who had so much fun at Barbie’s expense. And we all know that doing anything else is better than picking up after yourself. So, let’s add up the day. Squealing to the delight of children. Finding a decapitated Barbie on the front steps. Don’t matter what else happened that day, it was a winner.

Yep. Being a stay-at-home dude offers some awesome perks.