THIS IS MY FANTASY.
We open on a tidy suburban kitchen. Actually, it’s a room off to the side off the kitchen, one with a washer and dryer. On the floor is a basket full of laundry. The camera closes in.
Out of the laundry pops the cutest little stuffed bear you’ve ever seen. He’s pink and fluffy, he has a happy little face, and there’s one sock stuck adorably to his left ear.
“Hi, I’m Snuggles, the fabric-softening bear. And I . . .”
The first bullet rips into Snuggles’s stomach, blows out of his back in a blizzard of cotton entrails, and punches a fist-sized hole in the dryer behind. Snuggles grabs the side of the Rubbermaid laundry basket and sinks down, his plastic eyes rolling as he looks for the source of the gunfire.
Taking cover behind 1\16th-inch of flexible acrylic rubber, Snuggles looks out of the basket’s plastic mesh and into the living room. He sees nothing. The dining room. Nothing.
Snuggles is easing over the backside of the basket when the second shot takes his head off at the neck. His body lands on top of the laundry, which is remarkably soft and fluffy. Fade to black.
We open on a woman in a bathroom, clad in an apron and wielding a brush, poised to clean her toilet bowl. She opens the lid.
But wait. What’s this? It’s a little man in a boat, floating above the sparkling waters of Lake Porcelain. Everything looks clean already!
With a tip of his teeny ...