sandy claws

Cricket the logorrheic doll

This Christmas promises to be a simple affair, two family meals combined with meditation and contemplation. Gifts of company, gifts of spirit.

In the past we had some fantastic Potlatch Xmases. Santa strode about the room supreme. In those years E&H reaped the bounty, but were paradoxically inoculated. They were gifted into anti-materialism.

The doll above was a present the twins received one Christmas. One of those presents you give to the children of your enemies, like a blanket covered with variola virus, or a 1000 piece puzzle with one piece removed.

Cricket contained batteries and made scary conversation like "lets be friends!"

Time passed. The mouthy Cricket fell out of favor, lost her clothes, was relegated to outside.

I remember her final afternoon above ground.

E&H took the doll. They dug a shallow grave. They placed her in the bottom. They covered her with sand.

They filled a 2 gallon watering can and painstakingly rained its contents on the doll hole.

Were they hoping Cricket would sprout or were they thoroughly destroying her electronics?

Whichever, I was proud.