It had to break. So many people play with it. And they break it. They have broken each and every one of them.
Every toy ever made is broken. Broken at some point in time. Broken by me. Broken by accident. Broken by wear and tear. Worst of all, broken because they broke it.
Sharing is a conundrum for a child. There are very few toys anyway. It is a big thing to time-share toys. Share them with random other children. Greedy children. Children smart enough to preserve their own toys. A child with few toys has to dig deep and find the courage to be separated from its toys and then feel happy, amass praises and merit remarks from unwitting adults who applaud this injustice. The price paid is boredom for those moments of stardom.
There is one more small thing. A small feeling of attachment to the toy. There is nothing in this world that a child wants to be with more than its favourite toy. And having fewer toys allots a larger share of affection towards each toy. It is a marriage of sorts. To morally force a child to share its toy with other children is blasphemous. The child, however, incognizant of the scams of the bad world, obliges. It is still fine. The toy will come back. In the end, it is the child’s toy. It will be back to him. And all will be well.
Or not. Those other children will play with the toy. Play till the toy tires. Play till the toy is dead. Play till it has lost everything that made it so lovable in the first place. Play and play some more. They don’t play, they sabotage, slaughter and slight the toy to shambles. The child watches on. Crying mutely. Crying out for them to stop. Its voice is drowned in the cacophonous laughter of evil. The toy dies a silent death. The child is hollowed out. The toy is reduced to nothing, waiting to be interred.
A cadaverous child brings the remnants of the toy home, to its parents. “What happened?”
Dexter and Deedee were as similar as a punpkin and a pin. Dexter had orange hair and Deedee had yellow. There is more to it than hair colour though. They never understood each other’s sources of excitement and enthusiasm. What was a shiny birght button to Deedee, waiting to be pressed, was a mere switch in Dexter’s enormous invention. When Deedee, Meemee and Seesee learned the facts of life playing doll-house, Dexter did not understand the importance of a stuffed kitten that he used as cover to spy on them. Deedee found the grinding mill at Dexter’s summer camp in a god-forsaken, middle-of-nowhere farm more exciting than a zero-gravity research facility. Dexter found feeding monkeys more exciting than Deedee’s ‘moonwalk’ which she learnt on television.
Yet, both of them are stuck together. They get almost equal footage and are equally important in Dexter’s Laboratory. Coming to the crux of the matter, different people have different ways of going about things. Some people are excited by material pleasures. Some others simply seek tranquility and satisfaction. Some take pleasure in felicitous success, others in righteousness. Little things matter to some, others are in a hurry to achieve big. Some cry for the kitten stuck on a tree, others laugh at it.
It is not a difference of good and evil. It is just the existence of different types of things. It is always nice if both sides (there are no sides really, all too fluid) learn to live harmoniously. We wouldn’t love Dexter’s Lab if Deedee didn’t exist. If Dexter successfully cast Deedee out of his lab, he’d be miserable. We would be miserable.
Here’s a thought: Both Deedee and Dexter wanted to press the button. It simply meant more to Dexter in terms of authority and hard work. To Deedee, it was just a fleeting urge. She had no idea what it… zzzt… did.