Teddy Ruxpin Death Plot
When I was four years-old I went to a home daycare when my mom returned to the workforce. There were about five of us kids at Carol’s house, and we would watch shows like “3,2,1,Contact” and then “As the World Turns” because it was Carol’s “soap.” But most of the day was spent playing in the backyard and making up games with the other kids.
Except for Raquelle.
Raquelle was my age with raven-black hair who always wore clothes too prissy to play in the pine trees behind the house like the rest of us. But what ground my gears the most was that she would bring special toys with her every day, and her mom would tell the babysitter that none of the other kids could play with them. Every damn day this happened. Look, I super hate to share, too, but Raquelle was so bitchy about reminding the rest of us that we weren’t allowed anywhere near her possessions that I wanted to beat her at her own game. So I started bringing my own toys and asked my mom to do the same charade so that Raquelle couldn’t touch my loot. This day-care power struggle went on for weeks. Then one day Raquelle brought the red-hot toy of 1986 - Teddy Ruxpin.
I didn’t have a Teddy Ruxpin. I had received plenty of bad-ass toys from the JCPenney Christmas catalog that year, but Teddy Ruxpin was not under our tree. I think I got a Popple and Shera Princess of Power toys instead. My brother got an Atari, which was also very bad ass. But Teddy Ruxpin had eluded me that year.
Raquelle knew this, and she carried that robot bear around all day with the haughty attitude of a child heiress. She played the tapes repeatedly in my earshot and watched its mouth move with glee. Each tape began with a message of how to properly care for the bear and what not to do (submerge in water, throw into fire, etc). One of the sternest warnings was not putting anything in its mouth. I heard that warning over and over and eventually made my plan.
I knew that at some point the bear would have to be alone. I watched Raquelle play with her prize on the driveway while I waited like a jaguar in the brush for her to use the bathroom or go in for a popsicle. When the time of bear abandonment arrived, I was ready. I knew I couldn’t move the bear because that would have raised the alarm that Teddy Ruxpin had been tampered with. So I gathered up a handful of gravel from the driveway, gingerly approached the toy, and pushed it into the mouth of the robot bear. The warnings I had listened to all day had been so stern that I thought the bear would immediately self destruct or at least have smoke come out of its ears. But nothing. So I grabbed a few more rocks and stuffed them in the animatronic mouth like I was attempting to asphyxiate him. Still nothing. My plan had failed. I retreated back to the porch while Raquelle returned, popsicle in hand and continued playing with her awesome toy while I seethed by myself. I vowed that one day, Raquelle would get her comeuppance.
So, Raquelle from Day Care in 1986, you are on my Grudge List.
Grudge List: My husband teases me about my long-harbored anger towards certain people for bizarre reasons. This series is dedicated to exploring the origin stories of these grudges.
