Barbie jumped from the scale, 0% body fat, 5’10” and 110 lbs. “Perfect,” the research and development team at Perfect People Toys.com said. “She is the perfect genetic gene pool. Now introduce her to Ken.”
“After all,” the engineer offered, “A man always needs physical chemistry to connect initially or he won’t be attracted.”
Weeks flew by; Ken adored her smile, sun kissed hair that never dulled, her full breasts, long, gorgeous legs. “You’re perfect,” Ken sang over emails, texts, and endless heated conversations.
The sultry summer months sailed by, swimming, boating, Starbucks. Ken delighted in Barbie’s artistic spontaneity; she could go from Boardroom Barbie one day to Malibu Barbie in the passionate Pink polka dot bikini the next. He found her unpredictable; it made for such freedom of expression. To his delight she made herself available to him all hours of the day. The heated passion swelled into September with fine candlelit dinners, intimate drives along Sunset Beach in the pink convertible Porsche, and tantalizing tango lessons.
Summer drew to an unwelcome close and sadly for Barbie the chill of autumn drifted in with the chill of Ken. He stopped calling and sleeping over at the pink Dreamhouse, frequently spending more time with G.I .Joe. Confused and against her better judgment and that of her girlfriends, she called, texted, emailed, and drove by his surf shop several times. She witnessed many scantily clad beach bunnies oiling themselves, anxiously awaiting a surfing lesson while Ken waxed the boards and G.I. Joe waxed his Jeep.
A desperate phone call granted her a much needed visit to the toy programmer, demanding answers. He assured her Ken’s operating chip was wired completely differently than Barbie’s. The best advice he could offer was to let Ken alone so he would have a chance to miss her and replenish his supply of man-chemical that depleted from emotional overload. Apparently this man-chemical along with blatant disregard for cleanliness, inability to listen for long periods, frequent little boy temper tantrums, and an insatiable sex drive were unexpected male-functions.
“That’s okay,” Barbie said, “All that will change when he moves into the Dreamhouse.”
Barbie retreated, and to her satisfaction the programmer was right, Ken returned weeks later showering her with affection, a sparkling engagement ring, a spring wedding, and a Hawaiian honeymoon.
As time rolled by Ken found Barbie’s constant fashion and career changes unstable. Over coffee each morning, she pleaded with him to get a new job and much to his distress, repeatedly referred to the surf shop as a hobby.
“You have enough career changes for the both of us,” he mocked.
The following year, without his knowledge, Barbie arranged with the toy company for the development of Businessman Ken. That would make her girlfriends jealous and earn him more money.
Over dinner one night, Ken resisted the idea. “Barbie, I am not giving up the surf shop,” he shouted and stormed out.