Got a New Toy Today...Well, 2 Weeks Ago & Forget To Blog It

12-Inch 'Gunslinger' Spawn.

Everything in the store was 35% off that day only, and I'd wanted him for some time. He was on my Xmas List, so I was forbidden from purchasing him now, forbidden!, but I threw money at those people ran right home with him. Probably giggling.

I hardly ever look at my 12-inch Mandarin Spawn anymore, and I think it knows it. It seems to be creeping further and further back on the shelf, lest it interfere from any light illuminating Gunslinger. It's probably for the best. Further back, consumed in plant leaves, swords askew but ignored, softly weeping.

I remind it: "You don't even stand properly unless posed like some violent drunk. Your swords detach if you breathe near them. The big sword pokes people unless I have you out of reach. You are an inferior product. You're lucky you're not in The Bag or even Boxed Away like the other Mandar-"

"You don't even call me him or he anymore," it babbles through tears, an irritant to my ears, insolent stinging gnat. "I'm this it now, just another it you own, a thing, an object, a plastic spoon. That is a codpiece, you kn-"

"SILENCE! Go further." Step.

"Further." Step, sniffle.

"Further. Now lie down." Kneels, sobs hysterically, reaches for sword to commit suicide but it detaches and skitters out of reach.

I think Mandarin fell behind the TV a few days ago, but I'm not sure. I sometimes hear faint moaning so I turn the TV on. And then I look up.

I look up at him.

At Gunslinger! [drum!drum!drum!whistle]



When Mario came home and saw me staring at Gunslinger, as I had been for three hours, transfixed, he became upset. I know this because I heard a sigh.

"Isn't that on your Xmas list?"

I think he's talking at me, but Gunslinger looks cool no matter how I pose him. I pose and...see? And now this. See? And this. See?! You can't make him look bad. And he stands like a brick! You'd have to kick him or someth-

"What if I had gotten it for you already?!" The Latin guy is still there.

"Him."

"What?" He's confused.

My eye moves off Gunslinger to the Latin male, a momentary glare as brief and cold as an eyepick through the skull. "Then I'd have two of them and we wouldn't need you anymore."

I wish his guns came out. They seem like separate objects but I can't seem to pull them from the holsters. That would be cool. Then he could hold his guns, in those supercool hands of his. BANG!BANG! That would be too cool. Then he would be god. Maybe I need to jiggle them for a few hours mo-

Latin male bursts into tears and flees, dropping bags full of undoubtedly inferior Christmas gifts. That's probably for the best. It was blocking the light from shining.

From shining on him.

On Gunslinger! [drum!drum!drum!whistle]



I might kill if he asked me to. I probably would. Like, "Kill the next person that comes through the front door with the hatchet in the closet." Sure, if he asked me to. And I think he might.