Satire column: Taxidermy for kids

I have seen hell. It is fluffy. Today’s children are being ripped out of the cradle and raped by American culture to a point beyond Dr. Phil’s help. Who’s to blame for the premature molestation of minors? Build-A-Bear. Or as I call it “Rape-A-Bear.”

It was my little cousin’s sixth birthday and after a bombardment of subliminal messaging from the television, I decided a trip to Build-A-Bear would be not only a perfect present, but also a marvelous moment to make memories with little Mary.

So I carefully placed her into her car seat, turned the radio on a child-friendly station (a mix of inspirational Christian music and booty thumping hip-hop), and cussed at elderly drivers until we arrived at the mall.

One assumes the mall is a safe haven for children everywhere, but while making our way to Build-A-Bear I had to constantly shield Mary from Satan’s shopping cesspool. Hop Topic alone can cause never-ending nightmares for young children about dressing alike to express nonconformity, and Abercrombie & Fitch is porn! Pure porn! Strolling by, I encountered an enormous poster of a shirtless boy sliding his hand into the crotch of his overpriced jeans.

I eventually slung Mary over my shoulder and ran toward the secret sanctum that is Build-A-Bear, and when I gazed upon the doors to childhood innocence I stood amazed. The bright pastel colors would have made excellent Easter clothing, and the workers in their perky uniforms possessed no child molesting signs – i.e. baggy clothes, excessive stubble, mustache, etc. … Oversized children’s toys adorned the walls along side pre-made bears to excite the youngsters. I’m pretty sure heaven looks something like this. And by “this” I mean “American.”

“Mary-Mary, go ahead and pick your bear out!”

The first step to constructing a creature is finding a furry friend. There are only three problems. One, the majority of their choices are not bears, which I believe is some sadistic form of false advertising. Two, children can barely choose cereal, much less a mammal. And three, the animals are crammed into the crates unstuffed. Picture a wall full of empty animal skins thrown into barrels. It’s taxidermy. Taxidermy for children.

After a memorial service for the road kill, Mary selected a cat, and we made our way over to the stuffing machine, where the worker sat on a bright red stool (painted with the blood of unloved bears and heartbroken children). Her grin stretched from ear to ear – like the devil himself.

“Hello there. And what’s your name?”

“Mary.”

“That’s a very pretty name, and you’ve picked a very pretty kitty. Would you like to help me stuff it?”

Mary said nothing. She just stood there with a frightened expression on her face because unlike half of the children who dawn the doors of this evil establishment, Mary knew something wicked was to come. The worker handed Mary a tiny heart to place into her bear.

“Mary, I need you to make a wish on this heart, and then we’re gonna put your wish into your kitty.”

Mary closed her eyes and didn’t utter her wish out loud, but by the look on her face, I believe it was something along the lines of:

“I hope Jesus comes back soon and takes me away from this horrible place.” … “I hope kitty’s other vital organs are inside his body.” … or “I hope Obama enacts the Fair Tax.”

Whatever her wish, the heart was placed into the bear, and the worker prepped the bear for stuffing.

The cotton – which looked frighteningly similar to cocaine – escaped the storage unit through this large, metal, heartless tube, which they inject into the bear through an opening. But where is this opening? In the back? No, that would make too much sense. In the mouth? No, that’s too tempting for those undersexed teenage workers. The hole was – I kid you not – in the rear!

The poor kitten was anally raped in front of Mary’s virgin eyes!

Not only did the worker shove its bare rear onto the pole, but then the worker proceeded to ask, “Do you want your kitty hard or soft?”

How dare she? Of course – being a comedian – I replied, “She wants it hard.”

The worker shoved the poor creature in and out of the metal pole until she deemed a climax had been reached. Where is PETA when you need them? There was no offering of an after-loving cigarette or even an apology. She simply handed the bear to Mary, and said, “Why don’t you go dress her.”

Posted by Colonnade Archives on Sep 11 2009. Filed under Opinion. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. You can leave a response or trackback to this entry