His eyes roll back into his head and blood splatters the wall. I looked up from my flame as it caught the end of the cigarette and sucked in on everything surrounding me. I pushed myself back further onto the box with my heels, to dangle my head over the other side, to feel my ponytail brushing the dirt. I could see the mohawked Barbie hanging from the streetlight. She didn't come like that.
Nothing ever comes with a mohawk.
When we were eight, Nicole decided we needed to cut Barbie's beautiful blonde mane. She was trying to make me feel better after Jimmy Slack refused to go out with me, because I, unlike Barbie, was too funny looking. Orange kinky hair and freckles. Lots of freckles. Nicole tied a string around Barbie's delicate neck, attached a weight to the other end and tried to lob her straight up and around the street light.