The True Life-Story of a Ken Doll
Barbie recently celebrated her 50th birthday this past week, and the "on a lighter note" news desks across the country have filled out their column inches with recaps of the history of the world's most famous doll. Largely forgotten in all of this is the story of Ken, Barbie's neutered friend and sometimes-companion. To help shed some light on this forgotten plastic figure, I acquired a Ken doll at a garage sale, and with the help of a mysterious carnival-gypsy, animated him and stole his possessions. Included amongst them was his journal, from which I present some selected highlights...
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Who am I?
My name's Ken. I came home from the store a year ago in the company of two new Barbie dolls and Lindsey Blackman, our owner. My hobbies include wearing clothes and sitting. My life consists of an endless parade of weddings and dates and vacations that I find myself going on with one or more of the six Barbies who accompany me through this "life." And this journal? I'm writing it to help provide a constant touchstone, something to grasp on to for support as I whisk through this pink and purple hell.
Kissing
Last week I went to work for 15 minutes in the shoebox, while Work-Out Barbie went jet-skiing, cooked a cake, drove her Corvette to the pony farm and changed outfits four times. Then I went home, where Work-Out Barbie and I mashed our faces together against one another for a minute and a half while Lindsey made noises that she believed to be representative of kissing. I then laid motionless on the ground while Work-Out Barbie went jet-skiing some more before Lindsey was called for dinner. I remained on the floor for eight days, where I thought about death.
Another wedding
I got married again today, this time to Cool Times Barbie, which is I think the sixth time we've been wed. The ceremony was attended by 18 garishly painted ponies, four stuffed animals and the rest of the Barbies. None of my friends made it, again. Not that I actually have any friends of course. Lindsey sat the stuffed bears on my side of the aisle, but those guys have never said a word to me in my life. I think they're dicks.
My first, fifth, eighth, sixteenth, twentieth and thirty second wife. The pants are atrocious, but otherwise she's ok.
Lindsey's friend Katy came over today. They talked about horses for about half an hour and then talked about how boys were gross. Katy, whose parents don't keep tabs on her television watching I'm guessing, tried to explain the concept of sex to Lindsey, who simply was not getting it. Finally Katy grabbed Ice Capades Barbie and me, stripped off all of our clothes and started banging us together in some crude semblance of the reproductive act. I found it unsatisfying, as all my encounters with the Barbies are, when Katy said something that shed some light on my circumstances. Apparently I don't have any genitals. What the fuck?
Enduring mystery
This is really bothering me, and it's hard to verbalize specifically why. Until yesterday I didn't know anything was missing from my life. Yet now that I know about the existence of junk, and the fact that mine isn't there, I can't think about anything else. It'd be like if there was a deaf guy, who lived by himself his whole life, and never met anyone so never even comprehended that people could speak and hear sounds. And then one day people come to his house, and they're the first people he's ever met, and they're jabbering back and forth at each other, and he can't figure out why and then one of them writes down on a piece of paper (he can still read) "Your penis is missing."
I am that guy.
Camping
Oh fuck, yes. I'm going camping! This is the first time I think I've been out of the house. Because Lindsey is stupid and careless, normally only Hawaiian Fun Barbie is allowed outdoors, a fact obvious to anyone who's observed her weathered hyde or pungent bouquet. I am totally serious - she smells like dog shit. Anyways, the whole family is going on a camping trip, and I get to ride in the fucking car with everyone.
A new friend?
So the car ride itself was pretty uneventful, given that I spent it at the bottom of a bag. Still, exciting just to know I was in a car. When we got to the campground, Lindsey was told to play with her brother Scott for awhile, and for the two of them to "just shut up" for a second while the grown-ups figured out how to raise the tent-trailer they borrowed from the Fletchers. So that's how Sun Sensation Barbie and I met one of Scott's friends, Grimlock.
Grimlock is so fucking cool. He is a dinosaur, which is awesome, but he is also a robot too! I know, right? He has got a gun and a sword and he's been on TV. That stupid idiot Lindsey wanted Grimlock to marry Sun Sensation Barbie, but Grimlock wasn't having any of that, and he bit Barbie right in the goddamned leg! Fucking right! Anyways, Grimlock lent me his sword and we fought for a little while. Lindsey got bored pretty quick and that was the end of that, but I was exhilarated. That was maybe the happiest minute of my life.
A visitor
Grimlock came over today while the kids were at school. I had no idea he could move under his own power. He is so cool. I thought he'd want to play or fight or something like the time when we met, but he wasn't like that this time. He just wanted to shoot the shit. "Grimlock be super chill for awhile," he said. So we sat around talking. It was fun - he's got like a million stories about getting oral sex in various situations.

Grimlock took me to a bar last night (so cool) and we stayed there for hours drinking (7&7's are awesome) and dancing with the girls. Later, when we were heading home, I let it blurt out that my penis and testicles were missing. Grimlock nodded silently, the gravity of what I'd just told him or his partial retardation causing him to struggle to find words. Eventually he asked if I remembered another doll, who had cascading blond hair and a plasticy complexion. I told him that sounded exactly like Rock Star Barbie, who had gone missing over a year ago. Grimlock told me that her head and two arms had been found in Scott's room, and that some of the other robots were whispering that Scott was insane, a psychopath bent on dismembering his victims. Grimlock left it unsaid, but I filled in the blanks: Scott had stolen my balls.
Quivering with rage
Ever since Grimlock told me about Lindsey's brother, I've been seething. Today I snapped at Lindsey. There was another wedding scheduled apparently, but I wanted no part of it, and during the ceremony I told her to "go fuck herself" right in front of the Barbies and ponies and everyone. She looked pretty shaken.
A dark place
I'm stuck in a drawer. Lindsey hasn't spoken to me in a month, and I guess Grimlock can't get to me now either. I've mostly been working on my novel. The protagonist is this guy who travels the world, meeting strangers and trying to bait people into offending him in some way, before flipping out and snapping their necks with his bare hands and so forth. It's actually pretty calming to write - I've got 800 pages so far.
The dawn breaks
Grimlock pried open the drawer today and fished me out. He took me to a hall closet that hadn't been cleaned out in three years and said I could hide out there. I stammered, tears streaming down my cheeks, my mouth hanging open wordlessly. Finally I gasped, "Why? Why do so much for me?" Grimlock explained that when he was filming Transformers: The Movie he met Judd Nelson, who also didn't have a penis. At the time Grimlock had made fun of Nelson for this, something he regretted. "In you, Grimlock see way to make up for past youthful transgressions," he said.
Then Grimlock showed me the greatest treasure of all. In his claw he offered a small ball of Play-Doh which he demonstrated could be used to fashion a new set of organs for my personal area. After some experimentation with length and girth we settled on a nice half inch length - although he left me the extra dough, giving me a hilariously large stage-wink when he did so.
Finally after a hug and some more tears, Grimlock left, and I began to settle into my new home. The mind boggles at the whole new world of freedom and potential and anatomical wonder that has been opened up for me. I must admit to being a little overwhelmed with the possibilities.
Eureka!
I have been playing with this thing for days! This is awesome! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
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I think during the sixties there was atomically correct versions of Barbie and Ken. Of course, they were pulled off the self because a) they were filthy hippies and b) they were filthy hippies with a penis and vagina which meant they could reproduce and make more hippies *out of wedlock*. So, Ken, technically Mattel blessed you with junk and something to stuff it in repeatedly, then took it all away.
ReplyGo Small Soldiers on their asses.
this brought back so many memories...i was a strange child
ReplyThis might be because I just woke up, I'm drunk and delusional because of the flu, but this is the funniest thing I've ever read
ReplyGrimlock's a bro.
ReplyThis is 10 times better than Toy Story!
ReplyThis is great!!
Replylove this!!
ReplyThis is brilliant
ReplyWhen I was a younger, smaller sexual deviant, I got Barbie and Ken dolls. I subsequently popped Ken and Barbie's heads off, and switched their bodies. Then I took the Ken doll body with the Barbie head, and dressed it up in Barbie's clothes, and dressed the Barbie body with the Ken head in Ken's clothes. Then, I appropriated my brother's G.I. Joe, and had him pose with Ken and Barbie in ways that my parents found disturbing. I didn't know my mom's camera had film in it when I took the photos. All the dolls were confiscated, and my brothers and I were given toy guns to play with so we could grow up to be normal.
ReplyXD That made me laugh way too hard. Sounds like you were a fun kid.
This was beautiful.
ReplyHahahaha AWESOME.
ReplyThis, was simply, EPIC
ReplyGrimlock is awesome! So is this story.
ReplyI especially love the bit what says "I have been lying here for eight days thinking of death"
Black Ken's name is Steven. Black Barbie is Nikkie, Hispanic Barbie is Theresa....I spent WAY too much time stocking Barbies 3rd Shift last year.....
ReplyWow what a hilarious and truly moving piece. Its too bad that nobody knows the black Kens name. I bet he would have some stories hun.
Replyread this back when it was first published and just re-read it...absolutely brilliant.
ReplyAn epic tale of struggle and homicidal rage.
ReplyLol, yeah i didnt marry my barbies. my barbies fought! MWUHAHAHAHA.
ReplyThose aren't mutually exclusive you know.
This article is outrageously funny. I've read the thing about eight times, and I'll probably read it more in the future.
ReplyIt turns out I was a demented child, I apparently did not do all the normal barbie activities. Instead of making Ken and Barbie get married, I would set up a nice, quaint, Barbie household, and then pick the entire thing up and shake it back and forth until all the furniture, accessories, and even Barbie fell out onto the floor. I declared this a hurricane, and pretended all my Ken dolls were crocodiles, who then proceeded to bite the arms and legs off Barbie, turning HER into a crocodile. It was such a happy ending!
This would make such an awesome Robot Chicken sketch...
ReplyOh my God YES