Barbie is my life. That thought would have brought me immense happiness when I was a little girl and it still does. I am a life-long devout fan of Barbie, a host of a Barbie-related podcast, and a collector of Barbie products. I could tell you anything about the history of the brand from its humble and inspiring roots, nuanced thoughts on its various adaptations, and all about the subtle and nuanced relationships of Barbie’s friends. My knowledge of Barbie is encyclopedic, but my real claim to fame is that I am best known as the Barbie Killer. The truth is I did not kill indiscriminately, I am not a lunatic. I did what I had to do out of a desire to protect Barbie and it was a regrettable sacrifice that I would make if I had to do it all over again.
Why Barbie? Like generations of girls, I grew up with the gorgeous doll as one of my most prized possessions. She has meant different things to me at different stages of my life. When I was young, she was an older-sister type figure that I longed to emulate, to grow up to be. When I was actually her age, I did my best to imitate her style, but I was not blessed with her good looks, close friends, or charming personality. Men found me to be too quirky and high-maintenance for their liking, so I never found my Ken. As I matured, she became nostalgic, a reminder of my past dreams and the hopes that exist in girls everywhere.
When the events that resulted in my incarceration were set into motion, I was a security guard working at a warehouse that stored Mattel products among others. My first gray hairs were beginning to take root and I was profoundly distraught by my vanishing youthfulness. I heard about a new adaptation of Barbie coming to the big screen. I enthusiastically watched for news on it with bated breath, it made the long months of working night shifts pass quick to imagine what that hour-and-a-half runtime would contain. I speculated fervently about it online and on my Barbie podcast. When the casting of Barbie was announced, I was disappointed but unsurprised. I had high hopes that an unknown actress would have the traits needed to bring Barbie to life in the movies, but instead a somewhat generic looking teen pop singer was cast. Maybe the makeup and some CGI could get it to look right, I thought at the time.
The trailer was my breaking point. They got everything wrong. They got it all wrong! Barbie was being portrayed as a frumpy rom-com lead character, Ken was openly flirting with Barbie’s friends, and the filmmakers seemed to be going for “relatable” rather than fabulous with their set location. Instead of beautiful beaches or expansive manors, Barbie and Ken were the kind of couple that might watch Netflix in their pajamas in a run-down big city apartment. Worse yet, the trailer was full of ironic jokes that shat on the very premise of Barbie. It was an abomination.
I tried to contain my anger. I told myself that it was just a movie, that it would pass into the background and that Barbie would go on. Yet, in my nightmares the Barbie I loved and adored got consumed by this talentless pop singer bitch. Girls were led to believe that was the essence of Barbie, that they should just aspire to be some frumpy-looking generic girl and hook up with some guy that is third-rate compared to the real Ken. So, you see, what I did was a public service.
I took matters into my own hands. It was hard to find the gaps in my victim’s security, but I knew if the lead actress died, there was a good chance the whole production would tank immediately. At the very least, reshoots would delay it and a new Barbie actress might push the movie into being more in-line with what Barbie really is. It wasn’t too hard to find out online where the main shooting locations were and thanks to social media, I’d also be able to know approximately where Barbie’s actress was.
I’m no Barbie, so people don’t really notice me. I blend into any crowd and nobody looks too closely. It’s no surprise then that set security didn’t even bother to check my purse. If they did, they could have chanced upon my knife. I wore a hat I noticed in set photographs to be identical to that worn by low-ranking members of the crew. I grabbed a cup of Starbucks coffee that I carried like I was on an errand for someone important and used that as an excuse to get to the actress’ trailer. I was stopped by a security guard who I attempted to talk my way past. When that failed, I took out my knife and plunged it in his gut. He toppled over on the ground, bleeding heavily but still alive, and I went into the trailer.
The actress got what was coming to her. She was lounging lazily on her couch when I entered. I made as much motion as I could to catch her immediate attention. She jumped in shock when she saw an intruder and again when she saw my knife wet and crimson with the blood of the security guard. I smiled as I made my approach. She screamed for help. I delighted in her helplessness. With all the force I could muster I slammed my knife into her torso, the bone of her ribcage was the only unpleasurable part of carving her to my liking. She could never be Barbie so she deserved to die for daring to impersonate her in such a public way. Her death, as far as I can tell was suitably painful. She pissed herself. Her breathing was frantic. She screamed the most satisfying wails I’ve ever heard in my life.
Being that I was blood-soaked and that the set had a number of security cameras, it’s no surprise I didn’t walk out of the murder a free woman. I had accomplished my objective. At the trial, my defense attorney tried to convince me to plea guilty, to be spared the death penalty. I refused, I had no guilt in my soul for what I had done. Well, maybe a tinge for stabbing the security guard, but he got in the way. It had to be done. My defense attorney then tried to convince me to plea insanity. No dice. I’m perfectly sane. I knew what I was doing every step of the way.
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