Sunday
Ahh!! Help!! These humans, called as "cooks" want to cook me. I mean, i´m dead already see? Totally did not put baby cream on me to look dry... Never! Okay.. Maybe I did. Still don´t cook me! I have a husband, a child, and a LIFE. Respect me. How would you feel if I cooked you? Yeah you boy? Oh you would feel, and I will quote because I´m RESPECTFUL, "Scared, frightened, and why me? I´m not food!" You say? Well... Same goes me, Mr.! And you little girl, oh! And I will quote AGAIN, " Sad, and scared. Why would they cook me? I have an ugly doll, and a pretty doll. Cook the ugly doll please!" Pfft. Cowards. They don´t even care about the doll, either! What if the doll has a family? Gosh, you guys are cruel. Meanwhile, i´m writing this, the "cooker" is clicking buttons on this, "oven"? I´ve heard of an oven before. I thought they would grill me. I feel like an oven is much. Much. MUCH worse, than an ordinary grill. Uh oh... I see a plate. That I know, is where i´ll die.
