The Christmas Star.....

'Twas the night before Christmas. Ken Doll O'Flaherty crept through his house. There was no bourbon left, not even a cigarette for his mouse.

Ken Doll was now 66 years old. It had been forty years since he had met and dated his one and only love, Barbara. Other young couples had instantly dubbed them Ken and Barbie, so young and good looking. Barbie had been his girl, so fresh and pretty.

But these days, Ken would glance at Barbie sitting in the other arm chair. After their shotgun wedding, you might say Barbie had let herself go. Five babies had left her with a baby belly, varicose veins, and aching feet. Her toenails were as fungal as Ken's. Her once blonde hair was grey, tied back in a straggly pony tail. Being a silver sixty years old, she owned her cellulite.

Ken Doll O'Flaherty had not stood the test of time. His once greased Elvis Presley hair was gone, only a few grey strands bordered his blotchy tonsure. His washboard abs and bulging muscles had wrinkled away, his beer belly was his way of life. Both Ken and Barbie, sassy sixties, were still chain smokers. Their dental decay and yellow teeth were beyond the dentist they did not attend.

Sad, wasn't it? But Ken Doll still had affection for his old girl, as he fondly called her. Ken had retired, Barbie produced food, or they phoned home delivery takeaway regularly. Ken Doll was addicted to sports television, or to old reruns of his childhood shows.

Both of this non-loving couple had been raised on black and white television life coaching by Rin Tin Tin, and Lassie. Ken and Barbie would sit there in the afternoons, lighting up their cigarettes, gazing at the old Superman series. So far, neither of them was wearing their underwear in public, like Superman. One day, Ken and Barbie would battle for truth and justice. Or were they being too nostalgic for their youth? It had not been so good after all.

In his retirement, Ken Doll had bought an electric guitar. He thought he could be a new icon of music from 'his' generation. He hoped to establish a Dad's band of grays. Unfortunately for old girl, Barbie, he could only attempt to master "Bye, Bye, Birdie." This was the only tune he could play, aiming to excel in his new hobby.

Barbie took to wearing ear plugs. She no longer wanted to engage in conversation with her husband. Eventually, she raided her stockpile of savings, and leased her own unit. By herself. She announced to Ken Doll, "Say 'Bye, Bye, Barbie. I am leaving you, I am no longer your girl, I am a woman."

"Is there another man in your life?" Ken Doll asked, unbelieving it had all come to this.

"No, you men get on my wick!" On her way through the door, Barbie made sure she emptied the kitchen, leaving behind a can of baked beans. But no can opener, of course. That electric guitar had been the last straw.

Ken Doll O'Flaherty was soon foraging for home delivery takeaway. Hey, it was not rocket science, ordering food. He did not feel alone. Ken was not that big on cleaning away food containers. So soon, Emmaline moved in to the smoky, junk food lounge room.

Emmaline was a quiet, nocturnal, cute little gray mouse. She was quite plump, eating the scraps. Her fur was sleek, she owned her twitchy whiskers, and tiny little paws. Her tail swished. Old Barbie had not left much, but she did send Ken Doll a Christmas gift.

Ken Doll sneaked into the lounge room on the night before Christmas. There she stood, a life-sized Mattel, New Barbie! She was sort of petite, big flashing blue eyes, and had bushy blonde hairdo. She had shapely hips and ruby lips. Her real name was Sherry-Lee, from Nebraska. But, hey, here she could be New Barbie, people pleaser.

New Barbie was made of state-of-the-art new improved vinyl and Mattel plastics. Most of the time, she waited in the cupboard, always ready to cook, do cleaning, and embrace Ken Doll's loving beer belly. She never nagged, nor complained, always smiling.

Barbie cooked beautiful apple pies, like Ken Doll's mother and old Barbie had not. They had taken to buying pies from the early supermarket's frozen foods.

"What's with those older women, anyway?" Ken wondered. They had never been so humble and complicit as his New Barbie, forever Mattel.

Old Barbie was pleased. She did not have to listen to Ken Doll sniveling for her to return home. The months soon rolled past. Ken Doll kept practicng his electric guitar, but he was just no damn good. The whole neighborhood was wearing ear plugs. The noise was terrible.

The pages on the calendar turned, seasons changed. Ken Doll was so content. These were his golden years. New Barbie was not supposed to have emotions, or express feelings, but that was okay. She was Mattel, after all.

'Twas the night before Christmas again. New Barbie had kept the home immaculate, the festive food was baked. After Ken Doll's fumbling, he went to sleep on his once nuptial bed .Barbie crept off, silently. Ken Doll woke up at midnight, to hear a loud, crashing noise. He picked up his rifle he kept under his bed, in case old Barbie ever returned.

"What's that dreadful noise, New Barbie?" he asked. In the lounge room, New Barbie has smashed his electric guitar into a zillion shattered pieces. New Barbie had found an ax in old wood shed. Amazed, but butt naked, Ken Doll gaped in horror. New Barbie stood over his bed, her Mattel eyes glowing red with anger, ready to swing the ax.

Shrieking, terrified, Ken Doll O'Flaherty leapt from his bed. Desperately running, he tried to hide in every room in the festive house. He was chased by New Barbie and her ax. Ken's prognosis was not good, but he found the front door and escaped. Fat, naked, and gone!

"Good riddance!" yelled New Barbie. "Men and electric guitars get on my wick. I am not your girl, I am a woman!"

Exhausted, she collapsed into bed. New Barbie was able to lie in bed, instead of standing in the cupboard, on standby for housework and funny business. Emmaline, in the meantime, had summoned her mouse relatives and offspring to share in the Yuletide festive foods.

Gathering around the prize ham, lovingly prepared, the quiet little fur gal made the other rodents say Grace. "The gift is in the giving at this special time of the year." Her cousin, Umberto, eyed off Ken's electric guitar strings.

Emmaline looked stern. "Don't even dream about it, Umberto. Keith Richards you are not! That electric guitar got on my wick. New Barbie has given us the best gift. Peace be with us all." Umberto's cute little whiskers twitched. Those mince pies were on a hiding to nothing.

New Barbie finally had a good night's sleep. She awoke refreshed. She fired up her batteries. She ditched the fragments of the electric guitar in the bin. The gift was in the giving for the bin man this Yuletide. New Barbie swept up the Christmas crumbs, and prepared a cold collation for her family of quiet, nocturnal mice. She could order frozen foods for them, cause she still had Ken's wallet and credit cards. No more cigarettes, not her problem. She never felt alone.

New Barbie, forever Mattel, could channel and develop inertia. The neighbors had feelings, and sent her a gold medal. She was the hometown Christmas star! A woman at last!