I watched her die in a confectionary shop.
Of course, it wasn’t much of a surprise in the first place - nor was she the first to die there - but it still sort of stung. If I’m being honest, her utter and complete trust in me was the most shocking bit of the entire story. When she first walked in, her absolute naivety was almost like a stab in the heart. Those words she spoke to me still stick with me to this day.
“You guys sell chocolate here, right?”
The absolute audacity. How a single girl could hold so much absolute idiocy is something I do not and likely will never begin to understand. With the hours upon hours I had toiled to advertise my perfectly hand-crafted chocolate girls to the public, there may as well have been a bright pink neon sign outside the door reading: YES, THIS IS A CHOCOLATE SHOP!! THIS IS THE CHOCOLATE SHOP!! RIGHT HERE!! CHOCOLATE!!
Alas, I had no choice but to force a smile and respond in my typical please-let-this-be-over-with-soon customer service voice:
“Y-yes, have you heard us? What can I-”
“Nope, haven’t heard of you. These are really creepy, though.”
That was it. I was dead. There was no point in living anymore. Centuries of perfecting my craft and not only does she interrupt me, she calls my splendid creations creepy. Where is the justice in this world? Why me? If any higher power existed, I was praying to them right then and there. Gritting my teeth, I forced out my reply:
“Well, if there’s anything I can help you with, please let me know.”
Nodding, the walking idiot began to browse the shelves of chocolate girls. With nothing much else to do, I took the moment to observe her closely. She had a fairly slim figure with longer than average legs but slightly shorter than average arms. The skirt she was wearing served to accentuate her legs, so I assume she was aware of her freakish features and thought they were attractive or something. Then again, she may have simply chosen that skirt based on the words of some 7 foot dude she met on the street.
I wouldn’t be surprised.
Moving on, the one redeeming feature of this girl was possibly her bright orange hair, which was cut in a bob. Very few of my figures have ever had that striking shade and they always sell out almost immediately. Shame that it was so short. Very few of my dolls had long hair, or at least not extremely long hair. As the years go on, less and less people like long hair on their girls. Why this is the case, I have no idea. Sculpting the long, wavy locks of a doll's hair to perfectly fit her figure has to be the most satisfying part of the process but I can hardly do that when it's just short hair, short hair, short hair… Quite the shame, really.
“Do you make these yourself?”
“Hm?” I had almost forgotten that she was a customer. “Oh, yeah - I sculpt them all by hand actually.”
There was a pause.
“Do you have dark chocolate? With the fruit inside?”
“Of course, my dear,” I explained, gesturing to the display behind me, “These are our most expensive, however. The cherry filling makes them a bit difficult to make small, so I must make them 7 inches tall at the very least.”
This, obviously, was a lie. Only my most special girls get cherry filling and why would I make these girls any less than 7 inches tall? But someone as pea-brained as her could never understand this simple concept. She hardly had the courtesy to make herself look special, so I imagine the absolute majesty of the girls behind me would completely escape her. Then again, most people who come into my shop are somewhat similar in this regard so I can’t blame her too much.
“How much? It’s just chocolate so it can’t be too much, can it?”
Just chocolate? This remark was absolutely irredeemable. If I could just get my hands around her neck and…
“I see you’re… inexperienced with luxury chocolate, are you?” A laugh forced itself from my throat, though if I’m being honest it was more of a gag. “Don’t worry, though; I’m sure you could afford these somehow…”
“Is it alright if I keep looking around?”
Without even waiting for a response, she turned away to examine the shelves some more. Why couldn’t she just leave? Free me from this torment? At this point, I was even thinking about just kicking her out. Why lose a customer, though? But wait, what if she doesn’t even buy anything? I suppose that would be fine - She doesn’t deserve my dolls anyway.
Of course, this isn’t saying that anyone besides me truly deserves my dolls but shelf room is limited and, frankly, I must make a living somehow, right? If it were up to me I would simply collect, collect, collect without the customers involved.
“How much is this one?”
“Hm?” The girl was pointing to a doll on the bottom shelf. I had honestly forgotten that one had been there. Weird. The chocolate girl was posed with her arms crossed in a medium-length dark purple dress. The smirk on her face seemed to be challenging customers to buy her, though I doubt anyone would ever take her up on that offer. For whatever reason I had struggled to make this doll and she honestly looked like she had been thrown down several flights of stairs. Maybe she had; I don’t remember too well.
“$10 for that one. She’s pretty low quality so she’s on sale.”
“Low quality? I think she’s very pretty…”
At this point I had grown numb to the weird girl’s comments. If her buying a shitty doll would get her out faster, so be it.
“Well, I suppose it’s all up to interpretation. Why don’t you bring her up here and I’ll ring her up?”
The girl paused for a moment before tearing her eyes away from the doll.
“No, I think I’ll be leaving. This whole place gives me the creeps. I have no idea how you even get customers.”
That was the last straw. Blood boiling, I grabbed an item previously hidden in the drawer under my counter and lunged. Her idiotic comments were finally replaced by a sweet scream.
Well, that’s it. The end, I suppose. Now that I’ve calmed down a bit I can place my brand new red-haired doll on the bottom shelf with the other damaged goods. Too bad, she could have been special if she had just kept her mouth shut.