The impact of the .44 magnum bullet decapitated the Barbie doll’s head. Though the head flew across the room and landed hard on the kitchen floor, its bloody mouth continued to taunt Harry by repeating for the millionth time, “You’re a jerk, you’re a jerk, you’re a jerk...”

Harry grabbed the severed head, threw it against the wall with all his might, then stomped it thirty-six times. Still, it continued to hurl invective. “You’re a jerk, you’re a jerk, you’re a jerk...”

“Forget Barbie,” said his new girlfriend, a Kewpie Doll he’d won in an Ebay collectibles auction. “I’m far more valuable and collectable than her, anyway. There’s millions of her, but only a handful of me.”

“Yes, and you’re far more exotic,” Harry said, raising the Kewpie to his lips and giving it a French kiss.

The Barbie head used the distraction to roll itself around the kitchen floor. Finding a wooden match, it managed to grab it between its bloodied teeth. Then it rolled back to where Harry was standing. Using all the energy it could muster, it scraped the match head across the floor. When the match lit, the head hurled itself upward to Harry’s pants cuff. The cuff caught fire, instantly.

None of Harry’s clothes were fireproof, contrary to the guarantees made by the Chinese manufacturer in Shanghai. Consequently everything he wore burst into flames.

Though the Kewpie Doll tried her best to douse the fire with a fire extinguisher, she wasn’t successful. Since she was also made in China - at a factory right next door to the factory where all of Harry’s clothes were made - she was just as flammable.

Soon the lovers were a pile of charred remains.

Savoring the revenge it had taken, the doll head rolled around until it spotted a tube of Super Glue. With the gyrations of an Olympic acrobat and herculean effort, the head managed to glue itself back onto its body.

The restored Barbie doll showered, then called the local newspaper, and placed an ad in the Personals column. Before long, a lonely, rejected man going through the middle age crazies, responded.

“Do you own a Kewpie Doll?” she asked before answering his question about her moving into his apartment.

“No,” he said.

“Do you own a pistol?”


“Are all your clothes made in China?”

“Of course. I can’t find any made in America.”

“Good. I’m yours. Let’s go to your place and fool around.”

On the way, she suddenly realized how much fun she had when she torched Harry. As she replayed scenes in her head of him covered with flames, and how loud he screamed from the excruciating pain, she noticed a powerful urge within her to do it again.

“Would you do me one big favor, even if it sounds weird?” she asked her new beau.

“Sure. Just name it, Honey.”

“I’d like you to put a few wooden matches on the kitchen floor. There’s a little trick I learned with matches that I’d like to show you.”

"The Break Up"

Copyright: © 2010 Michael A. Kechula


Michael A. Kechula is a retired tech writer. His stories have been published by 128 magazines and 36 anthologies. He’s won first place in 10 contests and placed in 8 others. He’s authored three books of flash fiction, micro-fiction, and short stories: The Area 51 Option and 70 More Speculative Fiction Tales; A Full Deck of Zombies--61 Speculative Fiction Tales; I Never Kissed Judy Garland and Other Tales of Romance. eBook versions available at and Paperbacks available at

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