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Life after Barbie was hard.
But he was ok. More than ok, he was Kenough.
She let him keep her house, which was cool. He was the only Ken with a dream house, and the others were very impressed. But it was still Barbie’s dreamhouse.
He got to do whatever he wanted every day, just beaching and having fun, no Barbie to impress. It did leave him with a lot of free time, like a lot.
Hanging out with the other Kens was fun, and their new sense ken-therhood always brought a little warmth to his plastic chest. They had boys' nights now, and they mostly talked about horses.
And Barbies.
Because all the other Kens had their Barbies.
“Sorry Ken, me and Barbie are hanging out today.”
“Barbie and I already had plans.”
“Barbie might need me today so I need to be ready just in case.”
Dance parties were not so fun anymore. Apparently, it was really hard to dance without a partner, there were still the group choreographies, but no Barbie meant a whole lot less dancing for him.
And he loved dancing.
The other Barbies weren't really keen on him. Something about starting the patriarchy and overthrowing the government.
A little unfair, if you ask him. How was he supposed to know that it was not really about horses and cars?
Ken felt hollow, left out, disgusting, and completely forgotten. Almost like an Allan.
Weird Barbie let him hang out in her place when he got into one of his moods. He and the others had some theories as to what happened to her Ken, it ranged from “She just doesn't have one” to “She broke him by forcing him into the splits.” But she was nice.
Kinda touchy.
But nice.
It was getting better.
Maybe he wasn’t having a great day every day. But it was ok most of the time. And that was good too.
They were playing volleyball when he noticed that something had changed.
Ken had just messed up another serve that sent the ball flying away into the water. They would have to ask the mermaids to toss it back, and it would disturb the entire day.
“Have you guys ever thought about killing people?” It came out of his mouth before he could even process the thought.
The entire beach stopped, cool background music included. Everybarbie was looking at him.
“On the game!” Ken said loudly. “That was a terrible play! Haha! I could kill you in this game Ken!” He forced out a laugh.
They were still looking at him. He tried to leave while still playing it cool.
Which meant he sprinted full speed out of there as fast as he could.
Why was he thinking about that?
He ignored everybarbie that tried to talk to him, rushing from the beach to ‘his’ house in record time.
Maybe a shower would calm him down, the fake water would set his mind straight.
The shower didn’t help.
He ended up splayed out on the bed. Horse plushie, a gift from Barbie when she last visited, held close to his chest.
He missed her, she would know what to do.
Whatever was wrong with him.
But he drove her away, ruined Barbieland almost beyond repair.
It was his own fault that he was alone, that no one wanted to be close to him.
Now she was out there, in that awful place, because he couldn’t be content with just her friendship, with his own life, and with everything else.
He had ruined everything. It was all his fault.
His best friend was dead, and he had killed-
Wait.
No, she wasn’t.
Dead or his best friend.
His best friend was Ken, annoying as he was.
And Barbie loved the real world.
She had wanted to leave.
She forgave him for what he did and apologized for the way she treated him.
Where were these feelings coming from?
Sleep didn’t bring him any answers. His dreams had been weird, he was the host in a TV show, interviewing a guy who kept talking about video games.
The first thought in his head when he woke up was that he needed a gun.
Which was insane because no one needed a gun.
Ever.
Those things killed people.
Could dolls even be killed?
He needed help. Professional help.
The only thing close to that in Barbieland was living on the hill and always in the splits.
“Something is wrong with me!” He would be completely out of breath if he needed to breathe. Running from his house to hers and rushing up all those stairs
Weird Barbie snorted, leg fully rested against the wall.
“Yeah, but what else is new?”
He ignored the jab, choosing to lie face-first on her couch.
“I’ve been thinking about killing people, sometimes I get this really bad sense of guilt, and I kinda really want a gun!” He explained, face still against the cushion.
“Oh yean, no. Something is definitely wrong with you.” She suddenly dropped in front of him, forcing him to face her. “When did this start?”
“The other day at the beach, we were playing volley and stupid Ken messed up another serve, which meant we had to pause the game and wait for the mermaid to get the ball, and I just thought ‘He is so annoying sometimes I wish I could kill him.’” He forced himself to sit up. “Ken is annoying but I don't want to kill him! He’s my Bro!”
Weird Barbie was looking at him like someone had drawn on his face with a Sharpie.
This was serious.
Whatever it was could be dangerous. Last time something went wrong, Barbie left, and he created the Ken-patriarchy. What else could be happening now?
What if it spread? What if the weird things he was thinking spread to the other Kens like the patriarchy had?
He could be a danger to everybarbie.
Sweet Mattel, they would kick him out!
“What is happening to me?” His face was pure anguish, but no tears came out of his plastic eyes.
Weird Barbie looked at him intensely before shrugging and making an “I don’t know sound”.
Hopelessness. Anguish. Despair.
Would have to leave and go to the real world with all the dull colours, toxic masculinity, and a considerable lack of horses.
He lay face-first on the couch again and shrieked.
“Wait! I’m just kidding! I’m just kidding!” She rushed to cover his mouth, stopping him from screaming. “Are you done?” He nodded with his head.
For some reason, she kept her hand in his mouth.
“I know what is wrong.” She tugged at his hair and shook his face. “Someone is playing with you.” She booped him in the nose.
He made a face of understanding before turning to confusion once again.
“But I don’t have a Barbie!” Who even plays with a Ken without a Barbie?
“Well Beffcake, someone out there found you interesting enough on your own.”
He looked doubtful, trying to keep the hope from surging in his chest.
“So I am not going crazy and endangering everybarbie and will have to leave BarbieLand?”
“No.” She made her way up the stairs, abandoning him still on the couch.
Ken stayed quiet for a few seconds, a smile growing on his face.
“Is someone really playing with me?”
“Yes.” She seemed to lose interest completely.
“SUBLIME!” He could almost hear her rolling her eyes.
Ken didn’t care, someone was playing with him!
Committing crimes and possibly killing people, but playing with him nonetheless!
Just him, no need for Barbie or anyone else. He was enough for them!
“But whoever is playing with you must be one really weird motherfucker.” Weird Barbie said from upstairs. “And that is saying a lot coming from me.”
Ken wasn't really listening anymore.
…
Somewhere, hiding in the corners of the universes, on the run from the law, Wilford “Motherloving” Warfstach found a discarded Ken doll in somebody's backyard.