All singing in low tones: Oooohhhh, what do you call someone as pretty as me?
Damn, I love mannequins. I guess it’s because boys aren’t supposed to play with dolls (action figures are okay) that I’ve always been fascinated with mannequins.
One time when I worked as a firefighter I had to take an emergency medical technician refresher course which went on for several weeks. The instructor of those classes asked me, if when I came to class, I would bring the fire department’s ResusiAnne training doll for CPR practice.
Annie came in her own box but each time I loaded the doll in the car, I thought about how it would be funny to have the doll sitting in the seat next to me. Then, perhaps with other motorists watching I could come to a rolling stop, start screaming and push Annie out the door. I am sure I would have been fired for that. I may also have been arrested. I’m glad I’m not THAT impulsive.
It would be nice though to have my own mannequin or even a, family?flock?bunch? of them. They could be used for all types of practical jokes. Maybe I could even dress one up as a sentry and station it outside my door so it would look like I have a 24-hour guard. That’s not going to happen, of course, unless I somehow become fabulously wealthy. For as you know, people who are so wacky are known as eccentric when they are rich. The rest of us would be viewed as just weird.