T Story

Daria opened the box, licking her lips in anticipation. Once her old Mr. T action figure had vanished mysteriously, she had mourned, but ordered a new one on eBay as fast as humanly possible. Just as she was about to pull her new acquisition from the styrofoam peanuts...

"Daria! Could you come here a moment, please?"

Daria rolled her eyes. Her mother Helen wanted some probably inane thing that would waste her time, time that was better spent getting...acquainted with her new doll. "Coming," she said, barely hiding her frustration with her dull monotone.

The Mr. T doll cautiously poked its head out from within the box. "Hmm, so this is my new home," it said gruffly. He scanned the room, one hand over his eyes. "Strange, I don't see any other toys. Maybe this isn't the kid's room?"


Mr. T turned his head sharply. "What? Who is it?"

"Over here!"

Mr. T cautiously navigated his way through the styrofoam and out of the box, his plastic sneakers clapping down on the surface of the desk. "What do you want?"

He saw a head duck out from behind the printer on the desk. "Get out of here!" The head quickly darted back away, but Mr. T thought it looked familiar.

"What? Why should I?" Mr. T started walking towards the printer.

"Just get out of here!" the voice - the familiar voice - pleaded. "It's for your own good!"

"What do you mean? What's bad about this place?" He finally reached the printer, and looked behind it.

He was met by his twin. "It's horrible here! S-s-s-so h-h-horrible!" The other Mr. T doll began sobbing. "The things she's had me do...the places I've been...oh God, just run and save yourself!"

Mr. T had heard rumors about people who destroyed toys for fun. "How does she destroy toys? Firecrackers? Power tools?"

The other T shook his head. "No...she...she..."

He never had a chance to finish. Daria's heavy boot-steps were rapidly thumping up the stairs. The two Ts had no option but to freeze up where they stood, lest they be caught.

Daria ran into her room, slammed and locked the door, and thrust her hand into the box. "Nothing! Where the fuck is it?!" She dumped the styrofoam peanuts out onto the floor, the only other thing in the box being the invoice from the seller. She threw the box in fury and turned to her computer to send a scathing email to - oh, there it is.

She gave a wide, un-Daria-like smile as she picked the Mr. T doll up from next to the printer. Quinn had most likely been rooting around in her stuff, something she'd be paying for later. But for now...wait, was that the other Mr. T doll? How did it get behind her printer? Oh, Quinn was SO going to get it.

Daria licked her lips in anticipation. But not before she got it.


Helen walked up to the foot of the stairs, intent to call Daria back down to ask her something she'd forgotten to ask moments ago. She was stopped, though, by hearing her eldest daughter sing. Not wanting to interrupt her, she let the joy of the music enter her heart.

"You've got a friend in me,
You've got a friend in me..."


I am a bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad man.