Valentine's Day Special II

(The blog below was written on 2/18/2005, in my other undisclosed private journal. I thought of sharing it with my you, dear readers, as we try to rid ourselves of the smokey air of Valentine's Day. Story has been edited... Cos I feel like it. Mind you, my English sucks in this tale.)

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Crystal told me that she suspect a couple that we are both acquainted to are attached to each other.. I go like... arh... another set... anothe reminder that I am STILL SEATING ON THE SHELF... ahahha...

*Imagines this scenario*

I am the long-legged Rag-doll Cowgirl seating on the shelf in a toy shop. Everyday, people come into the James' Store to pick a toy.

Somedays, the smart soldiers were taken. Other times, the cute little lamb (even though she ignores the rest of us in the toy store, but the soldiers). Last Thursday, the pale-faced doll clad in kimono with weird eyebrows was picked up by a teenage girl in Gothic get-up. Just yesterday, a pair of old couple came in and picked up Milkmaid and Farmer. Every day, we see customers coming in, and claiming a doll of their own. Any doll, except us.

At this moment, on this shelf where all the dolls are placed, left the lady cook, the Chinese swordswoman and me, the Cowgirl. We look with longingly at those figures of hope who enters the store everyday, secretly wishing that the next customer who comes through the door will pick us up and bring us home. Our roving eyes follow the customer's gaze across the store. Most of the time, they settle on other dolls except us.

I have to agree, some of the dolls that were bought are too exquisite to stay in the shop. They should be placed somewhere where they can be admired. They are so perfect, I wonder if the customer who buys them realise the kind of maintenance they have to do with the purchase. But the other dolls... They were either too plain, too bright, too soft, or too hard. But even so, they have their buyers, people who took fancy of them and bought them. And I wonder why.

When will it be our turn, I ask the others.The lady cook muttered, "Too many cooks, spoiled the broth." I wonder what does she mean. The swordswoman answered, "Patience lah", wielding her sword, "meantime, work on what you have been made to do.".

The other toys at the cashier counter, that are reserved by the customers, echoes the same thing. "Your turn will come. That person hasn't come to the shop yet."

Easy for them to say, I muttered. They repeat these words so many times, it is becoming a chant in the shop. I really do not need patronising words.

Well, I do remember someone picked me up once. I was so sure that he was going to bring me home. He was carrying me and was walking around the shop. Just when I was enjoying the excitement of being in the arms of someone, almost immediately, I found myself sprawling on the cashier counter, not realising that he has left the store. WIthout me.

Well, at least James still keeps us in his store. At least he doesn't think that we are rejects. He still keep us and did not return us back to the factory. James still thinks someday, someone will pick us up and bring us home.

Meantime, with the same hope, we will continue to sit in the store. And wait for the right customer to come and pick us up.