MADE FOR EACH OTHER 
“Do you like my outfit, Ken?”
Barbie was wearing a yellow chiffon evening dress with lavender heels, long white gloves, and a sun hat.
“You look nice.”
“Oh, Ken, that’s so sweet.”
“What about my outfit?” he asked, dressed for a safari.
“You look handsome in a helmet.”
“Thanks. Go for a walk?”
“I would love to.”
They hopped along the carpet together.
“What nice weather we’re having,” Barbie remarked. “Don’t you think?”
“Uh-huh.”
Marcia told Randy, “No, have him say, ‘It’s always nice when you’re around.’”
“All right. Say again about the weather.”
“What nice weather we’re having, don’t you think?”
“It’s always nice when you’re around.”
“Oh, Ken, that’s so sweet.”
“Care to dance?”
“I would love to.”
They hopped in place, facing each other, tilting this way and that, Marcia humming a bouncy tune.
“You’re a good dancer, Barbie.”
“Oh, Ken, that’s so sweet.”
“You say that a lot.”
Barbie stopped dancing. “So? What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. Don’t get mad.”
“Stop dancing, Ken.”
He stopped.
Barbie hopped up closer to him. “Will you tell me something, please?”
“What.”
“Do you love me or not?”
Ken turned this way and that.
“Well?” she said.
“Oh no, a tornado!” he cried, and was thrown to the ceiling. He landed on his back and lay there moaning.
“I asked you a question, Ken.”
“I think my back is broken.”
“Stop changing the subject. Do you love me or not?”
Ken managed to get to his feet. He looked at her. “Not,” he said.
Barbie stood there a moment. Then she said, “Oh . . . Ken,” and threw herself down on the carpet.
Ken leaned over her. “Barbie, listen . . .”
“You broke . . . my . . . heart,” she said through her tears.
“No, listen, you’re a doll, Barbie. You’re a doll, okay?”
Barbie stood up, sniffling. “Oh, Ken, that’s so sweet.”
“No, I mean you’re a doll, you’re made out of plastic, and so am I. We’re both just a couple of stupid little—”
Marcia swung Barbie at Ken so hard he flew out of Randy’s hand.
Randy looked at Marcia, who was kneeling there holding up Barbie like a weapon.
“You can’t do that, Randy.”
He carefully reached behind and picked up Ken, keeping an eye on Marcia, who said again, slowly shaking her head, “You can’t do that.”
Randy held up Ken like a weapon. “Wanna bet?”
They knelt there, eyes locked.
Randy faked as if to swing, Marcia flinching. He smiled. She swung and caught him right across the smile with Barbie’s head. He cried out, dropping Ken, and put his hand to his mouth: blood. He showed Marcia his hand.
“Sorry. Would you hand me her hat please? It’s right there by your knee.”
Randy carefully dabbed a fleck of blood onto Ken’s mouth.
“What’re you doing?”
He set Ken on his feet. “You broke my lip, Barbie.”
“Well, you broke my heart,” Barbie replied, Marcia holding her upright on the floor again.
Ken began hopping slowly toward her. “It’s bleeding bad.”
“So is my heart, Ken.”
He kept coming. “I hate you.”
“You don’t mean that, I know you don’t.”
“Yes I do. I hate everything about you.”
“Ken . . .”
“The way you talk, the way you dress, the way you dance. You. Make. Me. Sick.”
“Ken, I’ve never seen you like this. You’re scaring me.”
“I’m going to kill you, Barbie. I’m going to yank your stupid little head off. What do you think of that?”
“Stay away from me.”
He kept coming.
Marcia told Randy, “Make him stop.”
“I’m trying to. Honest. I can’t. He’s alive!”
“Enough, Randy. Enough.”
“Tell him.”
“Ken, stop,” Barbie told him.
He kept coming.
“You’re a doll,” she told him.
“I’m a what?”
“A doll, Ken.”
He stood there, tilting to one side. “Oh, Barbie, that’s so sweet.”
Marcia sat back on her heels and looked at Randy.
“What,” he said.
“I hate you.”
“No, don’t. Come on. Look what you did to my lip.”
“Look what you did to them!”
“What’d I do?”
“Nothing, you just ruined everything, that’s all, the whole romance, it’s over!” She flung Barbie across the room, then covered her face and cried.
“Don’t, will you? Marcia? I’m sorry. Please?”
She kept on.
“I was jealous,” he told her, “Okay? Okay?”
Marcia slid her hands from her wet face and looked at him.
He looked down at the carpet.
“You were jealous?” Marcia said. “Of Ken?”
He shrugged.
“You don’t have to answer this, Randy, okay? But are you in love with Barbie?”
He looked at Marcia. “No.”
“So then . . . you mean . . . ?”
He looked down again.
“Oh,” she said, nodding slowly. “Hmm,” she said. “I see.”
He looked at her. “Can I say something? Promise you won’t laugh?”
Marcia promised.
He said to her, “It’s always nice when you’re around.”
Marcia burst out laughing.
Randy got up and ran from the room. She listened for the back door to open, then close. Poor Randy, she thought. I shouldn’t have laughed at him, that wasn’t nice. Or whacked him quite so hard.
She looked over at Ken. He was lying on his back, in his safari outfit. There was blood on his mouth, but he wasn’t being a baby about it: gazing straight up, smiling bravely.