The official biography of a man once thought to be lifeless, Maxwell Spoot tells the world about life as a human play thing.
For the first five days it was just darkness, I could literally not see a thing. Just noises. People talking, doors opening, truck and aeroplane engines. It was not comfortable, being in a box with two thousand bricks and four other people. But who cares? We're just little plastic toys, right?
The first time I could actually see was when I was poured out, with everything and everyone else in the box, onto a wooden table. The pain was crippling. Not only did I fall 10 inches to the hard wooden surface, but a tree fell on top of me. A fucking tree.
The tree was relocated to a place where it wasn't crushing my little plastic body. That's when I saw a human for the first time, and my God, it was ugly. I would've ran away if it was not for the fact that my legs had been absolutely ravaged by the fall then pulped by the fucking tree.
I was put in a line with the four other people. All guys. An indian, a policeman, a cowboy and a builder. We would've looked like the Village People if it was not for my blue jeans and white top. God knows what set we were meant to be a part of. The 'Cheesy 80s Disco Band and Fan Set'? I felt like such a tool. Still, I bet they felt worse.
We were left to the side while the human girl built us a house. I use the term 'house' lightly. It was diabolical. This girl clearly had to aspiration to be an architect, builder or anything requiring artistic creativity or logic.
For some reason all of our rooms were different sizes. Not even a close estimate or anything. The largest room was at least three times bigger than the smallest. I had one of the middle-sized rooms. The girl thought it would be funny to put that fucking tree in my room. I questioned her logic and went to bed.
I had nightmares about trees.