INFLATED EGO
by
THOMAS J. MISURACA
Ryan caressed the arm of Fun-Time Francine, his newly acquired
inflatable sex doll. They were at the climax of a romantic evening,
and Ryan's best date in a long time.
Ryan's life was littered with bad girlfriends. There was Sally,
who thought men were from Pluto and women were from Uranus-- literally.
Then there was Paula, a non-stop talker who spoke in third person.
Though she was far more interesting than Nancy, the hairdresser
who constantly experimented on herself. But worse of all was
Meredith, the proctologist, who liked to compare.
The only solution to this stream of bad girlfriends was to purchase
a lover. Tonight was about romance, not sitting in a restaurant
and listening to a woman yap about things he could care less about.
Fun-Time Francine's mouth was for kissing, and Ryan enjoyed pressing
his mouth to hers. There was something more exciting about rubber
lips.
Slowly, his hands moved down her body. A sweaty palm cupped her
inflated breasts. It was no different than Nancy and her silicon
implants.
The passion was rising. Suddenly, Fun-Time Francine slid out
from beneath him. The baby oil Ryan applied earlier must have
made her slippery.
Ryan reached out to grab her.
Something slapped his hand.
"Don't touch me!" the rubber lips of Fun-Time Francine
formed the exclamation.
Ryan screamed and leapt off the bed. A demon had possessed his
doll. Terrified, he crouched in the corner.
"Typical man," she scoffed, "Naked and shivering
in the corner."
Ryan's mouth opened to say something, but words were too frightened
to exit.
"Out with it, Einstein."
"You're a doll!" Ryan exclaimed.
"He's observant, too," Francine's rough voice was filled
with sarcasm.
"You can't come to life!" Ryan protested.
"Says who?"
"You're a toy. Toy's aren't supposed to do anything."
"A toy!" she exclaimed, "Is that all I am to you?"
Ryan was once again speechless.
"There's more to me than a gorgeous body."
"But you're made out of plastic," Ryan reminded her.
"It's what's on the inside that counts."
"My air is inside you!"
"So that's how it is," she said, "You made me what
I am today, so in return, I have to be your sex toy. That's not
the way it works."
She climbed off the bed and stood before Ryan in all her nakedness.
Her skin was smooth, pink vinyl. Where ever her limbs flexed,
the vinyl wrinkled. Her once fully open mouth was now closed
with a serious grin. Her fake eyelashes fluttered as they blinked
over her painted blue eyes.
With a sharp turn on her toe-less feet, she faced Ryan's closet.
On the back of her neck, between the strands of polyester, blond
hair, Ryan spotted the inflation tube, the brand name and the
mark of her creator: MADE IN CHINA.
Her once unified fingers now waved over the items in Ryan's closet.
They pulled out one of his long sleeve button-down shirts and
threw it over her arms. As she buttoned it, she turned back to
Ryan.
"Boxers?" she inquired.
Ryan pointed to the bottom draw of his bureau.
She slid on a pair of his blue-stripped boxers.
"Do you have anything to read?" she asked.
"I've got some Tom Clancy books."
"Something with substance," she said, "And I don't
mean Stephen King."
Ryan thought for a moment, "There's the Complete Works
of Shakespeare in the bathroom." He'd never read the
book, but it looked good there.
"Charming," she said, as she found her way into the
bathroom. She returned with the huge volume tucked under her
arm, "It'll do for now; we'll hit the bookstore in the morning."
She left the bedroom. As she walked, the sound of her rubber
legs scraping together was like squeaking balloons.
As he shrunk in the corner for a while longer, Ryan wondered if
what he'd seen had really happened.
Slowly, he threw on some clothes and wandered into the den. Francine
sat in his recliner, the large Shakespeare book on her lap. Her
rubbery fingers were having trouble flipping through the pages.
"Sorry to disturb you," Ryan said.
He could see annoyance in her fake eyes.
"But," he continued, "I don't think it would be
wise for you to go out in public."
Her eyes widened. "If you think I'm spending my entire existence
locked in here with you, you're crazy."
"But people will think I'm crazy if I walk around town with
a rubber doll on my arm!"
"Then you'd know how it feels," she said, "I'm
tired of living up to people's expectations. I have my own life
to live. I want to learn all I can. I want to do everything.
I don't care what other's think. They haven't had to spend half
their life in a box on the back shelf of Rick's Rubber-Goods Repository.
Now leave me alone, can't you see I'm trying to read."
"Sorry," Ryan didn't know if he felt guilty for disturbing
her or for repressing her. Quietly, he retreated to his bedroom
and tried his best to get some sleep.
Ryan awoke the next morning and tried to recall his dream from
the night before. His Fun-Time Francine doll had come to life
in the pursuit of higher education. What a wild one!
As he strolled out to the kitchen to make coffee, he passed Fun-Time
Francine on the recliner. On his coffee table was the Complete
Works of Shakespeare book from his bathroom; it looked as
if it'd been read through.
"Good morning," Francine greeted him.
Ryan froze. It wasn't a dream.
"Mornin'," he replied, and ducked into the kitchen.
"Hurry up and get dressed," she commanded, "We're
going to the museum today."
"The museum," Ryan exclaimed, popping his head out of
the kitchen, "I hate museums."
"All the days I was trapped in that box," Francine said,
"I dreamed of seeing a museum."
"Then go by yourself."
"If this relationship is ever going to work, we need to share
interests."
It wouldn't be the first time Ryan sacrificed for the sake of
a relationship. For Barbara, he had to go to only vegetarian
restaurants, she refused to eat at any place involved in the slaughter
of innocent animals. Julia made him join her in donating a pint
of blood every week. But worse of all was Rachel, who made him
convert to Scientology.
Ryan gulped down his coffee and headed for the shower.
"I'm ready," he announced after he dressed.
Francine snapped, "I'm not going out like this!" She
pointed at the long shirt and boxers she wore, they were stained
with the baby oil from the night before.
"You told me to hurry up," Ryan protested.
"Because I needed to shower when you were done."
"I've been done for a while."
"Don't rush me," she warned, slowly rising from the
couch. She brushed past Ryan as she entered the bathroom.
Ryan waited for what felt like an eternity until Francine returned.
She wore a pair of his jeans and one of his gray sweatshirts.
"Let's go," she commanded.
Every eye followed Ryan and Francine through the Museum of
Modern Art. None of the spectators suspected Francine was fully
animated, they all assumed Ryan had dressed up his inflatable
doll for a night on the town.
In order to avoid the stares, Ryan scrutinized the art. The detail
on some of the paintings amazed him.
As they left the museum, Ryan suggested they go see Lethal
Hands, the latest movie starring his favorite martial arts
actor.
"Are you crazy?" she exclaimed, "That stuff insults
my intelligence!"
"What about sharing interests?"
"We can go to the bookstore," she suggested, "They'll
have something for both of us."
Ryan agreed.
Ryan followed Francine down each aisle of the bookstore. His
arms were filled with a stack of her selections: books by Dostoevsky,
Joyce, Kundera, Dickens and other prominent authors.
On the way to the cash registers, Ryan picked up the latest issue
of Car & Girl Magazine and placed it on top of Francine's
pile.
"Put that back," she ordered, "I don't want people
to think we have no taste."
Ryan obeyed.
"Let's go bowling," Ryan suggested as they drove home.
"Please," Francine sounded offended, "I wouldn't
be caught dead in bowling shoes. Besides, I need to get some
real clothes."
"There's a K-Mart on the way to Rob's Roll & Bowl,"
Ryan told her.
"I may have been born yesterday," Francine said, "But
I'm not that stupid. We're going to Main Street and shopping
at the designer stores.
Reluctantly, Ryan drove her to Main Street. She barreled through
rows of high-class clothing stores until she found one she liked.
There she bought three expensive outfits.
"We better go some nice places in these," she threatened.
Ryan sighed as he handed the sale clerk his charge card.
"Can we go home now?" he asked.
"Of course, sweetie," she replied with a kiss on his
cheek.
Francine stretched out on the couch. She was so enthralled
with James Joyce's The Portrait Of An Artist As A Young Man,
she did not notice Ryan enter the room with a steaming bowl of
pasta. She did notice when he turned on the television to get
the score of the football game.
She looked up in annoyance and asked: "What are you doing?"
"Watching the game."
"Can't you see I'm reading?"
"Yeah...?"
"It's very rude of you to watch t.v. while I'm trying to
read."
He switched off the television. "What am I supposed to do
while you're enlightening yourself?"
"It wouldn't hurt to pick up a book," she said, "Who
knows? You might learn something."
Ryan finished his pasta and picked up Great Expectations.
There were so many words, his mind was spinning. After struggling
through it for two hours, he could no longer keep his eyes open.
"I'm going to bed," he announced.
"I'll be there in a little bit," she told him.
Ryan's face brightened. "You're actually joining me."
"I need to sleep sometime, too," she said, "I'm
no super woman."
"Can we...?" Ryan implied with a grin.
"We have a big day tomorrow. More museums, a book fair and
then the theater."
"Oh," Ryan said sadly and went to bed.
He awoke in the middle of the night to find Francine sleeping
peacefully next to him. She did not breathe, so she was as still
as death. Ryan hadn't had a woman so still in his bed since Debbie,
who meditated in her sleep, slowing her breathing to once every
five minutes.
Ryan reached over and put his arm around her. He caressed her
shoulder tenderly.
Francine shuffled in her sleep, trying to shrug him off. She
mumbled: "Bug off."
Instinctively, Ryan pulled his arm away. A moment later, he carefully
returned his hand to her back. He ran his fingers along her neck
until he found the inflation tube. It popped up with ease.
Hissing filled the air.
Francine sat up suddenly. Her limbs jerked wildly. She tried
to grab the back of her neck, but as more air leaked out, her
arms grew shorter. In moments, she was a writing mass of plastic
on the bed.
Ryan watched until all movement stopped.
He then grabbed her feet and began rolling her up. The rest of
the air was squeezed out along the way. Ryan placed the rolled-up
Fun-Time Francine back in her box. He immediately took it out
to the trash.
Now that he was wide awake, Ryan sat in his den. He picked up
Great Expectations and read until sleep conquered him.
"Inflated Ego" published in Fayrdaw #31, February
1999.
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