Roy pointed the device at the toy soldier firmly clutched in the hands of the six-year old boy and pressed the button.
At first nothing seemed to happen.
Roy had been expecting a flash of light, a blazing laser beam, or a crackling zzZzap sound effect. But there had been nothing.
Frustrated, Roy looked up from the device... and saw it HAD worked.
Where Mrs. Sanchez had been standing, there now stood muscular, hairy man wearing combat fatigues. He had a dark five o'clock shadow on his face and a rifle slung over one shoulder. His camouflage uniform had knives, grenades, pistols, and ammunition clips attached everywhere.
Roy shifted his glance over to Miguel, the little boy who'd been carrying the action figure that just came to life. Instead of a toy soldier, the boy now had a tiny, perfect, plastic replica of his former mother – an action figure of a plump, middle-aged Hispanic woman.
“Come on Elena, Miguel,” the soldier commanded. “We don't have all day. Miguel, stop playing with your Juanita Sanchez. We'll be late.”
Raoul, Mrs. Sanchez's husband, playfully patted the soldier on the butt.
“Oh, leave the kids alone honeybunch!” he said. “You fret too much, my little flower. We won't be late.”
“You just have to get to work on time,” replied the soldier. “I have to infiltrate Doctor Death's Command Fortress, disarm his doomsday device, and rescue the President's daughter... and after all that, come home, do your laundry and cook your dinner.”
“You wouldn't have married me if you didn't like doing it,” laughed Raoul.
“This is so weird,” whispered Roy to himself.