mannequin children

The Pitter Patter of Mannequin Feet

A very special Final Word from last night’s AwesomeTalk comin atcha! Right after this paragraph! It’s so very close! Enjoy.

The Pitter Patter of Mannequin Feet

This Valentine’s Day, forget flowers or jewelry or a meal that requires leaving the house. Give her a gift she’ll never forget:  a family of mannequin children.

Pros and cons of giving your wife the gift of plastic life –

Pros: Mannequin children are quiet, obedient, and definitely not the creepiest things on earth.

Cons: Maybe they come alive at night and stand at the foot of your bed to watch you sleep. Other than that? Not a gotdamn thing, you really need to stop over-thinking this.

There’s probably a law against just grabbing a mannequin child out of a JCPenney’s storefront window. Kidnapping, I guess? A curious amber alert flashes on the tv, stating  “a handsome boy displaying this summer’s hottest fashions was stolen from his window this morning. If you have any information about his whereabouts, call the Mannekidnapping Hotline at 1-800-WHY DOES THIS EXIST.”

So yeah, you can’t just grab a kid and walk out with it. You have to be a bit more methodical than that – you have to steal one piece of the child at a time. It’s the only way. One day it’s a hand, then a foot, then an arm stuffed inside an oversized jacket. These steps probably sound familiar to you – that’s because they’re based on the Slayer song Piece By Piece. Modulistic terror / A vast sadistic feast / The only way to steal a mannequin / Is going piece by piece.

I love you.

I love you.

Now it’s time to assemble. You’re going to need a basement, preferably one that’s never been touched by natural light. The darkness is very conducive to mannequin construction. You’ll also need glue, vials of bubbling things, human hair, etc. Once the first mannekid is complete, your instinct will be to name him or her. But c’mon, that would be insane. But if you want to maybe spend a few hours every day stroking their hair and plotting, hey, it’s your gift. You do you, homeboy. When your Valentine starts asking questions, just give her the ol, “I’m doin’ dude stuff, BABE. I’m smoking cigars or playing online darts or smoking cigars online with my dart pals… THINGS YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND OK?”

So you’ve been slaving away in the dark, knee deep in plastic body parts and finally the day is here. And sure, maybe some of the parts got mixed up, so a few of the mannequin children are mixed race and mixed gender and mixed height. What’s that word parents use when their kids are all fucked up…? Unique! Your unique family is ready for the grand unveiling. Position them around the breakfast table (but don’t cook breakfast, let’s not get crazy here) and block the door before your Valentine can enter.

Stare into her eyes and whisper “I have something to show you, dearest.” Be sure to stifle your maniacal laughter. “There are some people in the breakfast nook that are just DYING to meet you.” OK, maybe don’t put the emphasis on DYING like that. No blood has been shed here, this is an extremely thoughtful gift. Just look at them! Staring off into space, one of them is probably holding a tennis racket. You’ve really outdone yourself. This is going to save your marriage.  And if it doesn’t, you’ll always have your children. Chances are she will not be suing for custody.