There are no people living here anymore. No one to talk to, no one to look at, and I don’t think there will be anyone for a long time. Maybe I should take some time off? Maybe I should stop living here myself? Eh Harold?
The mattress is getting lumpy. A spring came through yesterday and nearly pierced me, straight through my eye. It made a boing! sound, before it ripped through, so I was able to get my head out of the way. Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered?
When people lived here, they used to say that I was a pitiful sight. A thankless job, they said I had; a thankless job. I wonder whether I still am a pitiful sight? Probably more so, since my fingers started to fall off.
I still remember the day. The turning point, if you get me? My car was in wonderful shape, and I had a family too. We went for a drive. Yes, it was a short trip, but hardly un-eventful. I can still hear them screeching and screaming in terror, as we sped towards the wall. You see, they were new, while I was a veteran in the field.
It was almost a perfect day. Impact at eighty miles an hour and not a scratch on me afterwards; though the young ones in the back didn’t get away so lightly. Straight through the windscreen they went.
Afterwards, a man in a grey suit shouted and screamed at poor Harold, for a whole hour! Yet he took the blame, though it wasn’t his to take. I waited outside for him and saw the whole thing. It wasn’t Harold’s fault. There was a design flaw in the car.
Straight after that, everyone started leaving. Harold packed everything up, even my family. He was going to take me away too. Until, I asked if I could stay.
Harold was shocked with my request. I don’t know why. He always talked to me! But he was stunned, just because I’d decided to talk to him for once. I really wanted to stay.
He backed away, giving me a look of horror! How dare he be horrified! Thirteen years working together and he was horror-struck to hear me speak?
I had to stop him running away. I asked him what was wrong. But he just ran as fast as he could, screaming that I was an abomination.
Well, I was taller, and faster than he.
When I caught him I tried to prove to him that I meant no harm. But even when I took his head off, he didn’t understand. Even now, sitting beside me, he refuses to talk. His face has gone a funny colour, though I put his head back on, the way he always did mine. I think he might need some varnish, but I can’t find any. Anyway, I don’t think it would matter. He’s a lot more mushy and runny than I am, not an ideal dummy at all.
I think he’s made from a different type of wood. At least we are together, in what is left of our home. This warehouse is the place we lived together. This is the place where we used to belong.
