Toy Dance Party (3 page)

T
he next morning, when the family is downstairs in the kitchen, Plastic rolls over to where Lumphy and StingRay are still drying on the radiator.

“I didn’t know the toy mice had names,” she whispers to her friends. “Did you?”

Lumphy didn’t.

“I’ve been calling them Mice. Or just Mouse if there was only one,” says Plastic.

“Me too,” confesses Lumphy. “Just ‘Hey there, Mouse. Come here, Mice.’ Like that.”

“Do you think they’re mad?” worries Plastic.

“How could they be?” sniffs StingRay. “They’re only mice.”

“But we didn’t know their names!” cries Plastic.

“Speak for yourself.” StingRay flips over to get the warm radiator heat on her back. “I knew.”

“You did? Did you know what their names
were
?”

“Um …” StingRay wavers. “Not exactly. But I knew they had nice mouselike names, just like they do. Like Bonko. That’s precisely the kind of name I thought she’d have.”

“Ahem,” coughs Plastic.

“What ahem?”

“Bonk
ers,
” corrects Plastic. “It’s Bonk
ers.
Not Bonko.”

“Whatever,” sniffs StingRay. “I knew she had a name, is what I’m saying.”

“He,” says Plastic.

“What?”

“That plump mouse Bonkers is a he.”

“How can you tell?” asks StingRay.

“He told me.” Plastic bounces once, lightly.

Lumphy shakes his head, reflecting. “I thought they were all called Mouse. Like StingRay is called StingRay and Sheep is Sheep.”

“And Rocking Horse is Rocking Horse,” adds StingRay.

“Ahem,” coughs Plastic.

“What now?” StingRay is irritated.

Plastic explains: “The horse is called Highlander. I thought everybody knew that.”

“Well, do you know the Girl’s name, then?” harrumphs StingRay, to cover her embarrassment. “Do you, huh?”

“Yeah,” says Plastic.

“Yeah? You mean you know it?”

“Sure.” Plastic twirls in self-satisfaction.

“What is it?” StingRay is too curious to pretend anymore.

“Honey,” replies Plastic. “That’s what her mom and dad call her when they wake her. They say, ‘Get up, Honey. Good morning.’ ”

. . . . .

Honey charges up the stairs and everyone goes quiet. She shoves her feet into her winter boots and grabs a sweater from a drawer. “Can I take a Barbie?” she yells down the stairs.

Her mother sighs from below. “Why do you need a Barbie at the movies?”

“Just for fun. In the car,” Honey answers.

StingRay wants to go to the movies.

StingRay wants to have fun in the car.

Why should a silent Barbie get to go when a knowledgeable and beautifully blue StingRay is available instead?

While Honey’s back is turned, StingRay leaps off the radiator and scoots herself as close to the vinyl Barbie box as possible. She tries to look adorable.

“Fine,” the mother calls. “But be quick. I don’t have time for you to put it in a new outfit or anything. The movie starts at eleven-forty-five.”

Honey puts on her sweater and walks over to the Barbie box. There is StingRay on the floor, looking up with those big eyes. “StingRay wants to go to the movies, too,” Honey yells down the stairs. “She’s never been.”

“StingRay
or
a Barbie,” her mother answers. “Not both.”

“But I want to take StingRay.”

“So leave the Barbie,” says her mother. “Let’s go.”

Honey grabs StingRay, clips a barrette in her hair, and—ha
ha!
StingRay is off to the movies, and the Barbie box remains unopened.

. . . . .

When StingRay returns, she is glowing with happiness. Three hours alone with Honey! Three hours of specialness! Specialness forever and ever!

But instead of playing with StingRay, or reading to StingRay, or cuddling StingRay and talking about how wonderful it was going to the movies together, Honey tosses StingRay on the bed, grabs her old library books, and leaves the house with her parents. The toys are alone again.

The specialness is over.

“Plastic!” StingRay calls, pointing a flipper. “Come here. I have a new game to play.”

Plastic rolls over to her.

“I will be Princess DaisySparkle,” StingRay announces. “And you can be my ugly fairy pet.”

“Okay, I’ll be a fairy.” Plastic bounces up to join StingRay on the high bed. “My name is … um … my name is Dimple!”

StingRay crinkles her nose. “No, your name has to be Wiggy. Wiggy is DaisySparkle’s pet fairy.”

“How about Pimple?” offers Plastic. “Or Plumcake? Or Pancake?”

“It’s from the movie I saw,” says StingRay. “
The Fairy Treasure.
You have to be Wiggy. Here, let me explain.”

“You guys,” Plastic calls out. “StingRay is gonna tell us about the movie!”

Lumphy and the mice trot over to listen. Highlander perks up. Even Sheep rolls over, yawning.

Plastic bounces down to join her friends, and StingRay looks upon them all from the wonderful height of the bed. They are all paying so much attention!

“The movie theater is big,” StingRay says. “Bigger than a school, if you’ve been to school like I have. It’s dark inside and smells like popcorn. People eat popcorn in the movies. It’s a whole room full of people eating the same food in the dark, just popcorn. Oh, and candy. Then the movie comes on, and it’s like being in a cave that’s full of butter smell—”

“A cheese cave!” cries Plastic. “Cheese is when you put milk in a cave!”

“I’m telling about the movie,” StingRay reminds her.

“Tell the story!” squeaks the mouse called Bonkers. “Tell it now!”

StingRay fluffs her plush out. “Princess DaisySparkle is the kindest, most excellent princess that ever lived,” she explains, “and she’s so special the whole kingdom loves her. She wears a royal blue dress and then a sky blue dress. She has hair down her back really long, and she rides a unicorn. She has an ugly fairy pet called Wiggy, and these mean guys try to get the fairy treasure.”

“Ooh!” cries Bonkers. “Mean guys.”

StingRay continues: “DaisySparkle meets a prince, and a witch is chasing after them—all green in the face, with teeth. She lives in an underground lair.”

“What’s the name of the prince?” asks Lumphy.

“It’s not important,” says StingRay. “He’s a prince. Then DaisySparkle wears a navy blue dress and saves the treasure but she gets caught, and the ugly fairies come to her rescue, and then it’s the end. It was so, so good.”

“What happens with the witch?” asks Lumphy.

“They get rid of her.”

“And what about the prince?” Lumphy wants to know.

“She marries him at the end and that’s when she wears this dress that’s robin’s egg blue with silver trim,” answers StingRay.

“Does he get a fairy pet, too?”

StingRay harrumphs. “These other guys are not important, I told you. DaisySparkle is important. I’ll explain it while we play, okay? Highlander, you can be my unicorn, and Plastic’s going to be Wiggy, and Mice, you can be the ugly fairy friends. Lumphy, you can be the witch if you want.”

Lumphy is not sure.

“Do you want to be the prince? You can be the prince.”

Lumphy does not answer. He would like to be somebody important.

“Sheep?” StingRay jumps down and pokes the one-eared sheep. “Sheep, you be the witch, okay? Because Lumphy will be the prince.”

Sheep does not reply, because she is not awake.

“I’ll be the witch,” Lumphy finally decides.

“Good. Your name is Cackle.” StingRay goes under the bed. Last time she was supposed to clean her room, Honey shoved a bunch of dress-up clothes under there. StingRay attempts to adorn herself in a sky blue handkerchief—but it is too small to stretch around her plush body. She tries again, this time wrapping herself in two necklaces and a small white feather boa.

Not blue enough.

StingRay concocts a new outfit of navy ribbon and a crocheted blue scarf, but discards that as well. Finally she settles on a plastic tiara, accessorized with a lacy royal blue sock from Honey’s laundry bin.

when StingRay emerges from under the bed and asks: “Do I look like a princess?”

“Aha!” yells Lumphy as Cackle, wearing a black velvet Barbie cape. “You rotten DaisySparkle! I’m going to steal your ugly fairy pet and kidnap her to my witchy lair. Wiggy, I’ve got you!” He leaps on Plastic and drags her away to the space underneath Highlander.

“Wait!” cries StingRay. “You can’t kidnap my fairy!”

“But I already did!” Lumphy laughs his evil laugh and squeezes Plastic in his forepaws.

“Kidnapped! Kidnapped!” yells Plastic.

“And your underground lair can’t be Highlander,” objects StingRay. “He’s my unicorn.”

“It’s my lair … because I’m in it,” growls Lumphy. “I’ve captured your unicorn, too. How ’bout that?”

“I wasn’t ready!” cries StingRay. “We didn’t even start and now you’re kidnapping everybody!”

Plastic bounces forward. “I can escape, right, DaisySparkle? Can’t Plumcake escape? Can’t she fly?”

“Wiggy,” corrects StingRay. “
Wiggy
is your name, and you’re a boy.”

Plastic stops bouncing. “I don’t want to be a boy,” she protests. “I’m a girl.”

“It’s pretend, Plastic,” says StingRay. “In pretend, girls can be boys, and boys can be girls. Anyone can be whatever they want. Look: Lumphy is being a witch, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m a boy witch,” says Lumphy.

“You are not!”

“I am, too. I’m going to magic your unicorn and turn it into a dragon for me to ride on!” cries Lumphy, grabbing a pickup stick and using it for a wand. “And I’ll magic the ugly fairies, too. Mice, you all have been turned into gremlins, and you must do my evil bidding!”

“Oooh, make me a gremlin!” pleads Plastic. “Make me a girl gremlin! Magic me!”

“Stop!” cries StingRay. “You guys are playing it all wrong.”

“It’s pretend,” Lumphy reminds her. “Anyone can be whatever they want.”

“Gremlin! Gremlin!” yells Plastic.

“But it’s not the movie!” StingRay bangs her tail on the floor. “And you took my unicorn. That’s not what’s supposed to happen!”

Lumphy brandishes his wand. Why can’t he play the way he wants? “Cackle is turning you into a … a … a
spoon,
DaisySparkle!” he cries. “Because you are a no-fun bossyboots.”

Why is Lumphy ruining everything? StingRay will not have it. “I’m not a spoon,
you’re
a spoon!” she cries, grabbing one end of the wand.

“No,
you’re
a spoon!” yells Lumphy.

“You!”

“Spoon!”

“Then you’re a fork!” cries StingRay.

“Spoon is worse!”

“No, fork is worse!”

“Don’t call me fork!” cries Lumphy, dropping the wand and launching himself at StingRay. He bats her face with a buffalo paw and sinks his teeth into her left flipper.

“Oww!” If StingRay could bleed, she would be bleeding a lot right now.

Lumphy chomps harder, and StingRay swings her long tail around and hits him in the head. Wonk!

And again. Wonk!

And finally—Wonk! Lumphy lets go. Oof!

Lumphy has a chunk of StingRay’s plush in his teeth. Pthheeh. But while he is spitting out plush, StingRay bangs him upside the head with a flipper. Bap!

Sheep is now awake and bleating in distress, while Plastic bounds around the room squealing, “Stop! Stop!”

The mice—Bonkers, Millie, Brownie, and Rocky—view the proceedings as entertainment. StingRay bangs Lumphy with the other flipper, this time on his woolly buffalo neck. “Ooh,” squeaks Millie. “She landed a good one on him, there!”

“They need to control their tempers,” says Rocky. “They should use their words.”

StingRay hits Lumphy in the tummy with her tail—Bap!—knocking him over.

Now Lumphy, back on his feet, lowers his head and shakes his buffalo horns. He is so angry! StingRay is such a bossyboots all the time!

Charge!

Rumpa lumpa,

Rumpa lumpa,

Lumphy goes for StingRay like a bull in a bullfight. He rams his horns into her, tearing a hole in her side, then tosses her up, through the air, and across the room, where—Fwap!—she lands in the big toy box.

Lumphy doesn’t care if StingRay is hurt. He doesn’t care if she never talks to him again.

out of Honey’s bedroom, past the bathroom—and into the grown-up bedroom.

. . . . .

and rolling to a stop. “Are you okay, StingRay?” she calls into the quiet.

A flipper peeks over the edge of the big toy box, and waves weakly.

“She’s okay!” cry the mice.

“She’s the winner!” whispers Bonkers to Millie. “I knew she could win. She’s got a great tail, hasn’t she? And Lumphy hasn’t got any tail at all, just a stumpy bit.”

StingRay’s flipper grabs hold of the box’s edge, and she hauls herself over onto the carpet. Plastic inspects her wound. “You have a hole,” she tells StingRay. “You’re going to need to get it sewn up if you don’t want your stuffing coming out.”