Barbieforger

https://discord.gg/B7a5aYaAAB


These tactical dolls are a tribute to the combat barbies swarming the arsenal and treating this like a dress up game. Their names are Volodymyr and Vladimir. But there's a bit of a barbie cold war going on at the moment. You see, they positively will not sit at the same tea party. Despite both having chiseled plastic features, Volodymyr despises Vladimir for wearing stylish suits and power posing. These two just refuse to get along. 


As the host of the Montignac tea party, I had done everything I could to make the event welcoming. The tiny porcelain cups were filled with pretend chamomile tea. The plastic cupcakes were arranged in neat rows. Ken had even agreed to DJ, spinning a delightful mix of Barbie Girl remixes and classical waltzes. It should have been perfect.


But alas, there was tension.


Volodymyr sat on one end of the Everon Dreamhouse’s tiny balcony, arms crossed, refusing to even glance in Vladimir’s direction. “I will not share tea with him,” he said. “He always tries to take my chair, even when I clearly put my name on it.”


Vladimir, perched on a pink chaise lounge on the opposite side of the room, scoffed. “I do not take chairs. I simply liberate them when they are left unguarded.”


I sighed. “Guys, it’s a tea party. It’s supposed to be fun. Just come to the table and have a cupcake.”


Volodymyr shook his head. “Not if he is there. He’s always trying to tell me where I can and can’t have tea.”


Vladimir smirked. “That’s because I have been hosting tea parties longer. I know how these things work.”


Ken, always the peacemaker, tried to mediate. “Maybe you guys could just agree to sit at opposite ends of the table?”


Volodymyr stood up dramatically. “I will not share a table with someone who only wants to take over the tea party!”


Vladimir stood as well, adjusting his tie. “And I will not share a table with someone who refuses to acknowledge my superior tea party expertise!”


The tension was thick. Even Barbie Dreamhouse Cat looked uncomfortable.


I threw up my hands. “Fine! You know what? No tea party for either of you! The cupcakes are mine now!”


I grabbed a cupcake and took a giant, triumphant bite. Volodymyr and Vladimir gasped in unison.


“You… you can’t just take all the cupcakes!” Volodymyr stammered.


“That is an act of aggression,” Vladimir added.


I glared at them, mouth full of plastic frosting. “Watch me.”


And so, the Barbie Cold War raged on, unresolved, as I enjoyed my tea party alone.


Sometimes, diplomacy fails. But cupcakes? Cupcakes never let you down.