Page 42 - Unlikely Stories 2

Earl King and his Puppet Thing

passes over the creature’s head. It stirred, twitched, and then fell off the
table, away from view. The audience gasped, then broke out in nervous
titters as Calamari desperately tried to lift Living Doll back into place;
she exceeded him in all physical dimensions. He had managed to prop
her head and arms over the table top, and was straining at her
hindquarters, when she suddenly straightened her back and stiffly
turned to face her creator—who stumbled back against the ragged
proscenium wall amid gales of Techie laughter.
“What are doing there, little man?” she rasped. “Get your filthy
hands off me! How dare you!”
Despite his evident delight at her animation, the scientist adopted a
conciliatory tone. “Why, don’t you know me, sweetheart? I’m Doctor
Calamari, the man who made you, the man who loves you.”
Living Doll was not mollified by these revelations of responsibility
and affection. “Let me see a mirror!” she croaked and wheezed.
Calamari pointed silently to a tiny swatch of silvery cloth roughly
tacked to the backdrop. She rushed across the laboratory to the mirror,
pushing him rudely aside. The children held their breath as the Doll
rigidly regarded her reflection. Then she began trembling with rage.
“Damn you!” she screeched, and turned upon the cowering Calamari.
“Oh, no! Why, what’s the matter, my darling? I created you: you are
my dream girl, the love of my life, my—ouch!” Living Doll began
flailing him with her thick rough-hewn arms, right and left, up and
down; mechanically, methodically, mercilessly she thrashed Calamari as
he tried to avoid her, all the while uttering squeals of protestation and
amorousness. His cries were echoed by the Techie children
empathizing simultaneously with victim and aggressor.
“No, my sweet, no! Ow! Don’t you understand, dear Doll? I love
you! You’re mine! Ooo-ai-yi-yi! Honey-bunch, why are you so angry?
Please, stop!” He raced around the laboratory, Living Doll in
ponderous pursuit, scourging him furiously. Finally, after receiving a
series of blows that bounced his bulbous body back and forth like a
punching bag, he ran for the door.
“Didjiridu! Didjiridu!” he yelled. “Come back in here! I need you!
Quickly!” Then he leapt aside to avoid the monstrous aberration of
womanhood bearing down upon him.
She followed his evasive movements doggedly.

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