Powerpuff Save the Day!

Everyone has his or her favorite super hero. Superman, Batman, Spiderman, Thor, Wolverine, The Flash, the list goes on and on. As a female watching TV and wishing for a hero that wasn’t a Disney Princess, I found that Cartoon Network’s The Powder Puff Girls took a good portion of my time and worshipping. They were originally called the Kick-Ass Girls but to be able to still be a children’s show, they changed the name to the Powder Puff Girls.

From Left to Right: Bubbles, Blossom, and Buttercup. My heroes when I was in the second grade.

This show was all female power. Three little girls made from Sugar, spice, everything nice with an extra accidental ingredient, Chemical X. Professor Utonium  just wanted daughter who were the perfect little girls but instead he created superheroes. The Powder Puff Girls were soon fighting crime in their city of Townsville. These 30 minute episodes with great storylines and a funny nostalgic feel to it, made the show a winner in my heart and in the hearts of many others.

The Powder Puff Girls had many villains such as Mojo Jojo (my aunt’s favorite), HIM, Princess Morbucks, The Gangrene Gang, and Fuzzy Lumpkins just to name a few. They were friends with the Mayor who kept a hotline phone in his office so that he could call the girls whenever the city was in trouble. But they had to do it before bedtime so that they could go to Kindergarten the next day. Even though they could fly and shoot lasers from their eyes, they still had spelling test to attend to.

I miss this show. I would often watch my favorite episode on Youtube which was the dedication to the Beatles where every line they said was a lyric from a Beatle’s song. But when I had Boomerang on my Cable TV, I would sit and watch that show like it was no tomorrow. And although my mom hated me watching that show growing up because of the violence they showed, I still watch it today. This show showed me that little girls could be superheroes too. That they could save the world and take a nap with no problem. You can still catch me at times singing the “Love” song from one of the episodes where a mime takes all the color away and Bubbles saves the day. That’s how much Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup impacted me. And that’s why I would will show my future children this show when I start a family. Powder Puff!

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Furby: A Horror Story

It was a hot summer night when it all happened. In a simple, quiet house on the south side of Chicago. Three people: one mother, her daughter, and her daughter’s friend were having a fun night of games, movies and laughter. The two girls, who were no more than 8, sat in the mother’s room playing “WAR”, a card game they learned at school.

“Okay girls,” the mother said walking into the room. “It’s time for bed. It’s almost midnight!”

“But mom! The game was getting really good!” the daughter said.

“Nope, it’s time for bed girls. Let’s turn off the light and sleep.”

“I-I-I’m afraid of the d-d-d-dark.” The friend said fiddling with her hands.

“It’s okay, we can leave the hall light on, right mom?” the daughter said.

Furby...

“Sure.” The mother smiled and patted the bed for the two girls to start lying down. The daughter curled next to her mom and the friend lied at the other end of the bed with her face towards the hallway light. The house was silent and comforting. Yet it was too dark for the friend. Her brown eyes opened only just 2 hours after closing them and was being greeted by small brown eyes as big as a ping-pong ball sitting on the TV stand.

“Furby.”

“Hello?” The friend asked.

“Furby.”

“Brit, you Furby is awake.” The friend started shaking the girl who was curled up safely in her mother’s arms until her own eyes opened.

“What?” Brit said.

“Your Furby. It’s awake.”

Brit got out of bed and walked over to the small Furbie.

“All you got to do is turn him off. Then he won’t mess with you anymore.” Brit lifted the small robotic toy upside down and switched it off. “There, now let’s go back to sleep.” The friend nodded her head and went back to sleep at the end of the bed. Only minutes later did she hear the word “Furby” start to echo in her head. She switched positions in the bed, thinking it was a dream, until she heard the voice become louder.

“Furby.”

“Brit! It’s on again!” the friend screamed.

Brit and her mother woke up and stared straight where the toy usually stayed but didn’t see it.

“Wait where did it go?” Brit said as she started to get out the bed again.

“Furby, Furby.”

“It couldn’t just walk off!” the mother said. The friend stayed in the bed, refusing to move where she sat. She never understood the true meaning behind the toy. It looked like a cross between an owl and one of those creatures from the movie The Gremlins. The toy ran on batteries and it just said, “Furby” when ever you moved your hand in front of it. But the fact that Brit had turned the toy off and yet it was still on and now missing did not sit well with the friend. There was something more to the Furby.

“Found it!” The mother said. She walked back into the room with Brit right behind her. The mother, with a screwdriver, took the batteries out of the toy and place the toy back at it’s spot by the TV. “Okay girls, let’s go back to sleep now.” The mother and daughter climbed back into the bed and drifted off to sleep. The friend sat quickly on the bed, afraid to close her eyes. She watched the Furby, with it’s eyes now closed and sat quietly eloped in the darkness. Then she saw the toy widen it’s eyes. It’s head turned, which it was not able to do, and said, “Furby likes to eat children.”

Furby is watching you...

The friend screamed and ran out the room and to her friend’s room where her overnight bag stayed. She had to get out and quick. Then she heard Brit’s piercing scream echo throughout the house followed by the mother’s. The friend grabbed her bag and ran down stairs where she found the little monster waiting for her, it’s ears moving up and down.

“Furby likes to eat humans.”

“Please, leave me alone! I have a future ahead of me!”

“Furby.”

“Please stop!”

“Furby.”

“No I beg you!

“Furby.”

And then there was silence.

Furby is your friend...

Dear Monica Lewinsky

Oh look! Someone wrote me a letter!

I guess the best way to start this letter is to say hi and ask how you are doing today. So hi! How are you doing? How is your life in London? I really don’t want to be one of those people who just say “Hey you’re a whore!” because that’s not what this letter is about. Well, I guess in a round about way it is, but no. This letter is about how you changed the name Monica for me when I was in kindergarten and first grade. I figured that life would be simple with a name like Monica. But I was wrong.

See I had no idea who you were when the whole scandal or as you call it “mutual relationship” with President Clinton happened around 1996. I was only about 4 years old at the time and the only thing I knew about politics was that Clinton was the president and that the Mayor of Chicago was a Daley. But that was it. That was all I knew. So think about how shocked I was when the older kids started calling me Monica Lewinsky.

It started when I was Kindergarten in 1997. I was 5 and the new thing about politics I learned was that George Washington was the first President and that Abraham Lincoln was the 16th. At the catholic school I went to, we wore uniforms and went to morning mass every Thursday at 8:15 AM. After mass on one Thursday, something must have been on the news about you, because all of a sudden, the older kids started to say weird things to me.

“You are a home wrecker.”

“Monica Losewinsky.”

“Did you kiss him on the mouth or on the-”

“Wow, who knew he went after younger girls like you.”

“You should ashamed.”

“Why would your parents name you after that whore?”

How would those kids know what a "whore" looks like?

I didn’t quite understand what they were saying or what they meant. And when ever they would ask me why my parents named me after you, I told them they didn’t since they named me after the Saint. The older kids would then laugh and tell me that my parents supported home wreckers. Imagine the reaction my parents had when I told them what happened. I was so young and I was hearing “Whore” and “Home Wrecker”. They marched up to the school and talked to the principal. Then the principal, a older Irish Nun with red-orange hair, talked to the kids in 5-8th grade.. And boy did they get a lecture. And for a while, I didn’t hear people call me Monica Lewinsky. Not until I learned who you were until I was a little older. Out of the age of innocents and into the age of learning about life itself. I learned about what happened and started to understand how stupid the older kids at my Catholic school were. How could they claim that my parents named me after you when I was born before your whole ordeal. I mean that was kinda stupid right?

However the whole point to this letter is to ask you for an apology. Your mistakes hurt me when I was little. Even though I had no clue what you did or who you were, it really hurt me. I just wish things could change, but of course you can’t rewind time. After something has been done, you can’t change it.

Regards,

Monica From Chicago

At least she said it was a mutual relationship...