One paragraph story... June 18- PM edition

The toys assembled in the closet after Tommy was deep asleep. Teddy had the floor, he was pacing and rubbing his chin. The toys, headed by Beavra, had formed a coalition of old, ignored, or otherwise forgotten playthings. What Beavra has suggested was unheard of; the killing of your boy. Beavra was tired of being put on the high shelf, when he was obviously a land creature, the GI Joes had lost one too many, 'good men', down the garbage disposal. Even the remainder of the McDonalds toys woke up each morning wondering if this was the day they would also be shoved out the second floor window. As Grant the Godzilla said, cradling the burnt stub of his left arm: “The kid's a monster, and I should know.” Teddy harrumphed, and the the toys all looked to him. “I remember riding along the assembly line- I was scared. I was scared that I would be picked by someone who wouldn't care for me. And when Tommy was born, his tiny arms holding me. All the trips to Grandma’s house. It was all I ever dreamed of. Our job is to be here for him when he needs us.” Beavra, spoke, “We know all this, Ted. And then the novelty wears off. Once, I too, was taken everywhere. He made me take a bath with him. I’m spot clean only, for Pete's sake, but he couldn't be 5 minutes without me. Now. Now I am just a bookend for volumes he can’t even read.” Beavra lowered his head resting it on his frayed, felt paw, “We gave so much. And for what? The boy dies, tonight." The toys visibly agitated, now, roar. The door opened and light poured in the closet. The toys froze. Tommy, wiping the sleep form his eyes, looked over them. Tommy, who awoke from the noise had followed it to the closet, thinking his radio was on. " Hello? You guys shouldn't be locked up here.” Scooping the lot up he brought them to his bed and placed them on his pillow, hugging tight Teddy and Beavra. When he fell asleep again, Beavra whispered, “Okay, maybe tomorrow.”

James C.