object.
"Blep blob blooopidie blah," I said, stuffed under a pile of clothes in the closet.
It had been about a year since Richard last played with me, and I wasn't having any of it. I used to tell him off every once in a while, but he would just try and rip out my batteries. He had forgotten he glued the cover shut to try and run me out about three months ago. He has yet to succeed.
"OH COME ON CASH REGISTER!" Yelled Richard from the abyss of his bed, "WHY CAN'T YOU JUST DIE ALREADY?!?"
"Bleeeeep bloop blah blee," I said, holding my tongue so I couldn't curse him out even more.
I hate not being able to speak English. If Richard had taken better care of me, I would know how to say pretty much everything a toddler probably could! Maybe that's why he threw me out. If I had a little baby human toy that could start speaking like a babbling baby, I'd want to throw it away too.
"I VERY MUCH REGRET GETTING YOU!"
I really wish I was given to someone else. Richard just yells at me all day and I have to smell his disgusting gym socks. I was given as a birthday present for him, and he cried immediately on sight. He told his mom to return me, which hurt but it was to be expected. I didn't expect a five year old to be so articulate though.
Richard is six now and he still hasn't gotten over bad mouthing me. I'm 98% sure he's just spoiled. It's still a punch to the gut knowing that the person that is supposed to look after you despises you though. I should have known it was bound to happen.
All of my friends that have been returned have mentioned how much of a menace the children are. I didn't quite know what they meant until I fell into Richards arms. Now the only thing I have to do is wait. Wait until I die with a corroded battery and finally be chucked away. But I'm ready for that day to come. After all, isn't that the normal life cycle of a Furby?
