Uncanny | Brynn Bowthorpe

I am not a frequent customer to the University Bookstore, but I do walk by quite often on my way to various classes. One can see through the windows various common “bookstore” items: books, T-bird paraphernalia, envelopes, post-it notes, and so on. I assume that any unsuspecting co-ed could find whatever she wanted for school in such a place.

The bookstore is a common place. Nothing too out-of-the-ordinary. However, as I passed the other day, I noticed a collection of dolls for sale. I have never really been a doll person, so noticing shelves full of dolls is a little unusual for me. These dolls were covered in butterflies and flowers, with hair curled like noodles and painted faces staring down the innocent passers-by as if to say, “I am something you really need.”

I found myself wondering why in the world the University stocks dolls to sell in the bookstore. How many sales do they get? I pictured lines of co-eds waiting to purchase, each one stroking their doll’s butterfly dress gently. Homesick girls with swollen red eyes consoled by the creamy staring faces, asking their parents to put a little extra money in their account this month for “emergencies”. Faces of grown women pasted to the bookstore window wondering what their husbands will think if they come home from class cradling a noodle-haired doll. Amused at myself, I walked slowly to class, half-way expecting to glance back at the bookstore to see a “Doll Blowout Sale” sign hanging in the bookstore window, and a plethora of crying college girls waiting in line to buy.