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Welcome To The Doll House<br />

A Tales From Wilton Manors Publication<br />

Trouble in the Dreamhouse!!!<br />

Zine 2 (<strong>2015</strong>-<strong>06</strong>)


Written by DeAnna M. Majors<br />


BARBIE, 22, SOBS while she scrubs the dishes in her pink<br />

porcelain sink. She looks around at the perfect Malibu<br />

Dream House that is the core of her pretty, plastic existence.<br />

Barbie appears perfect on the outside. She wears a size four<br />

in all of her expensive, designer clothing, never goes without<br />

a meticulous manicure, and carries herself with poise all of<br />

the time.<br />

Everything in the kitchen is perfect, from the pristine, pink<br />

marble counter tops to the purple ceramic floors. Barbie<br />

flings the plate in her hand, but it’s plastic, so attempting to<br />

break the dish does not satiate her anger.<br />

BARBIE<br />

Dammit! Dammit it all to hell!<br />

After a few moments of emotional release, Barbie becomes<br />

quiet and sits down at her plastic dining table with its plastic<br />

tablecloth.<br />

KEN, 24, enters the house and strolls into the kitchen.<br />

KEN<br />

How was your day baby?<br />

Ken flashes Barbie a smile filled with perfect, white teeth.<br />

BARBIE<br />

It was perfect as usual. I cleaned your house, did your<br />

laundry, ironed your clothes, mowed your lawn, and

walked your dog.<br />

KEN<br />

Good girl! You are such a perfect wife.<br />

Ken glances around the kitchen. Anger floods his perfect,<br />

plastic face.<br />

KEN (CONT’D)<br />

Where’s my sandwich?<br />

Barbie launches out of her chair in a flurry of activity and<br />

races to the powder blue Frigidaire. She pulls out Roma<br />

tomatoes, arugula lettuce, and mozzarella cheese.<br />

Ken saunters to where Barbie is standing.<br />

KEN (CONT’D)<br />

Did you forget what the rules are?<br />

Barbie? I give you this perfect house to live in, that perfect<br />

pink Corvette parked in the driveway, and all of the other<br />

perfect things you own.<br />

Ken runs his hand up Barbie’s back. Barbie stiffens as he<br />

gets near her neck.<br />

KEN (CONT’D)<br />

All I ask for in return is that you have my sandwich waiting<br />

on the table when I get home.<br />

BARBIE<br />

I’m so sorry Ken! It’s just that Skipper called, and the dog<br />

wouldn’t behave, and--<br />

Ken interrupts her with a maniacal LAUGH. He grabs<br />

Barbie by the throat and SLAMS her against the refrigerator.

KEN<br />

I am tired of your excuses you dim witted bimbo. When I<br />

say want a sandwich, that means you make the sandwich.<br />

Veggies, cheese, and balsamic vinaigrette on rye.<br />

As Ken strikes Barbie repeatedly, a resonating THWACK<br />

fills the air.<br />

Tears fall down Barbie’s perfect, rosy cheeks, but she<br />

remains silent.<br />

BARBIE<br />

Please Ken! I swear it will never happen again.<br />

Ken releases Barbie and admires his reflection in the<br />

window above the sink.<br />

KEN<br />

It had better not. Now make my damn sandwich.<br />

Ken stalks out of the kitchen.<br />

Barbie stands over the sink crying once again.<br />

BARBIE<br />

I just don’t understand. It’s just a damn sandwich.<br />

She stops crying, inhales, and admires her own reflection in<br />

the window. She continues to prepare the sandwich when her<br />

expression changes from sadness to resolve.<br />


I’ll make you a sandwich all right.<br />

She piles the toppings on the rye bread and cuts the<br />

sandwich in half on the plate. Barbie pauses for a second,<br />

then opens the refrigerator and pulls out a container of Grey

PouPon.<br />

She slathers the sandwich with the spicy mustard and<br />

replaces the bread. Ken hates mustard.<br />

She calls out to Ken in her perfectly pitched voice.<br />


Your sandwich is ready!<br />

Ken reenters the kitchen and takes a seat at the table.<br />

KEN<br />

Now that’s a good wife. I guess old dogs can learn new<br />

tricks.<br />

Barbie takes him the sandwich and sits it down on the table.<br />

Ken takes a large bite and instantly spits it out.<br />

KEN (CONT’D)<br />

I hate mustard you wench!<br />

BARBIE<br />

I know you don’t like it, but I do.<br />

Ken starts to get up from the table, but Barbie stops him<br />

dead in his tracks. She produces a pink, diamond crusted 9<br />

mm pistol from behind her back and shoots Ken, point<br />

blank, in the center of his forehead.<br />


Damn. I got blood on my perfect pink wall.<br />

Barbie sits down across from Ken’s dead body, takes<br />

the sandwich from in front of him and takes a giant bite.<br />


Yum! Not bad if I do say so myself.

Writer/Self-Publisher:<br />

Brett Butler<br />

Editor/Webmaster:<br />

Eric Schleicher<br />

Visit our Website:<br />

for Online Version of our<br />

Zines plus Extras:<br />

talesfromwiltonmanors.weebly.com<br />

Contact us by e-Mail:<br />

talesfromwiltonmanors@yahoo.com<br />

Like Us on Facebook:<br />

facebook.com/<br />

TalesFromWiltonManors<br />

Contributors:<br />

DeAnna M. Majors<br />

Poems, Short<br />

Stories, Art,<br />

Comics,<br />

Photography,<br />

Feedback are<br />

welcomed.<br />

Submissions:<br />

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s.weebly.com/<br />

submissions<br />

Tales From<br />

Wilton Manors<br />

Zine<br />

5 (<strong>2015</strong>-<strong>06</strong>)

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