The plastic tomb at last is opened. An eager young face stares down.
Grubby hands reach and grab. Jeff's box is extracted by the giant
child. He is adept at removing the wire coils that bind.
Jeff tries to move, to speak. He is so stiff, so unused to it, that it
is with great difficulty.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Toby," the young giant answers.
"I'm Jeff," gasps Jeff.
He's still adjusting to the new sensations, after years in the dark.
The light glares. He's in a garage. The plastic tub lies in the
corner. The giant hold him next to a gleaming red tricycle.
"I'm tricking out my new trike," Toby explains, "You're my noise
maker."
"Noisemaker?" Jeff asks as his owner's son uses the packing wires to
secure the doll to the wheel strut with his arm secured such that his
plastic fingers will hit the spokes.
"Cool, I can't wait to show my buds, I've got a Navy Seal noisemaker
for my new trike."
Jeff screams and pleads, but his voice is too tiny and his new owner
too adamant and single minded. The boy climbs on the trike and begins
pedaling. He goes in a circle in the garage twice as the spokes rap
against Jeff's plastic hand.
Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat....
Jeff loses himself in the continual agony as the trike races out of
the garage and down the sidewalk.