Emily Everychild wasn't your typical three year old. Instead, she was a rambunctious, precocious, perceptive, loquacious, curious, and cognitive toddler. But most of all, she thought of herself as famous. She couldn't yet understand why, she only knew that her every breath and function brought delight across the world, and more importantly to her home. Her birth was a celebration to which there was no end, and every day there were new discoveries of her rapidly developing abilities. Like all children do, Emily sometimes dreamed of what it might be like to escape her celebrity, but she had also been taught the importance of historical documentation. So, she always did her best, and acted naturally when she was asked to repeat herself for the camera.
One day, Emily noticed that the rave from her recent potty training triumph had aged into yesterday's news. Managing one pair of underwear through the length between baths was becoming a regular thing now, and the praise it awarded was weakening. Though she still had her daily photo shoots, and annunciation interviews, the thrill of greater self worth that she relied upon could only be earned when she surprised and astounded. Yes, the bond that held Emily's family together was only as strong as their interest in her, and it was her responsibility alone to be the most precious gift they could receive. It was time to outdo herself again, for the immediate future depended on it.
After much careful consideration, she decided that she would have to poop in the big toilet entirely all by herself. It had never quite been done before, but all of that was about to be changed. It was complex enough to impress, with minimal raise in expectations. She examined the process thoroughly, every step, and every rhyme pertaining to it's proper execution, until she felt confident that she was ready for her big girl debut. All she had to do was hold it in until her parents were distracted, slip into her new princess costume, sneak into the bathroom, complete each step with perfection, and then call for her parents to view the poo in time to witness her washing her hands.
On a Sunday afternoon, Emily seized the opportunity to attempt this unparalleled feat of amazement. Shortly after eating lunch, her mother and father stepped outside to investigate an unusual noise coming from the lawn of a nearby neighbor. Emily rolled across the carpet as she watched them exit through the front swinging door. Then, swiftly jumped to her feet before finishing a juice box, and scurried excitedly into action. The princess dress was located with flawless expertise. As she pulled it over her romper with such effortless precision, she felt assured that the mission to reignite the flame of her fandom would be easier than she had planned. But Emily was forgetting one very vital fact..
Worn separately, dresses and rompers are perfectly safe to wear and enjoy, but when these two seemingly harmless articles of clothing are combined, they become fittingly unstable.
The unwitting thrill seeker skipped to the potty, and tugged at her shorts which tightened the shoulder straps attached at the top of the romper. With no other option but to try tugging upward, Emily did just that, and what resulted was shocking. Her dress was now acting as a vice for her underarms. For every tug she tried, her position became more snugly compromised. She was trapped like a prisoner in the shackles of poor judgement. At that moment, the daring three year old realized that this stunt might cost her her life.
The little girl fought and squirmed, feeling the urgency for relief rising to a boil in her tummy. She began dancing with panic, scratching at fabric that refused to tear, and ripping off buttons that gave way to no seams. In one last desperate attempt to escape the harness of her menacing garments, the toddler drew her left leg inside of the short-leg of her romper. The consequences were inconceivable.
Emily's knee was now folded and pinned firmly between her ribcage and the blouse portion of both layers of the unforgiving outfits, pushing the cotton-poly play wear to dangerous levels of physical constriction. With her right foot on the floor mat, and the other dangling lifelessly from the cuff of the ridden up short pant, she hopped helplessly to maintain her balance. And that's when what was meant to be simple trip to the potty became a terrifying plunge into the porcelain bowl itself.
Falling into the toilet was like being swallowed by the jaws of a carnivorous oyster. If help doesn't reach her soon, she may never recover. Emily splashed and screamed with every ounce of strength and air that she could muster.
The noise from the neighbor's lawn was merely a harmless garden hose. Just as Mr. and Mrs. Everychild stepped back inside the house, they heard a sound that wretched their hearts to the carpet. It was the voice of their daughter pleading for them to help her by name. The couple ran towards the cries as fast as they could, unaware of what they would find. Hope returned to Emily when they arrived at the scene. Little did she know, the nightmare was far from being over.
Her parents didn't hesitate to get the wardrobe malfunction mishap on film. As if it were any other activity, they asked her to pose her arms and enact particular expressions. The water that threatened to consume Emily rose deeper with each of her tears. The distraught and confused toddler couldn't comprehend what was happening. What she did know was that this form of publicity was nothing to be admired, and it would be the end of her luxury as a universally adored icon forever. Her parents insisted that this was not the case, as likes were already accumulating on the photos that they were instantly posting.
Begging for rescue from the two people whom she'd entrusted with her safety, she leaned towards them, reaching for a sympathetic hand, unintentionally relieving the pressure from the porcelain against her buttocks. With her cries for compassion unanswered, Emily then erupted, engulfing her left foot in body-temperature feces. The pain was unbearable. Upon impact, the exhausted girl's ego system was sent hurtling into a whirlwind of crippling disbelief. The delight on her parent's faces only added to the horror.
When the team was finally able to hoist her to the bathtub, they commended her for her bravery, to which the child made no reply.
Emily killed herself two weeks later. She was found under the sink, still clutching a bottle of grape flavored hand soap. On her chalkboard easel, she left behind what is determined by forensics to be a disturbingly revealing note confirming her intent of self harm. The deterioration of her mental health is expressed vividly in it's utter illegibility.
Above is a photo of Emily's mother showing police where the tragic chain of traumatizing events took place. "You never think that something like this can happen to your family..", said Mrs. Everychild, staring through her phone as if reliving some distant memory, "..That's why we're starting a go fund me page." The interview was brief and somber, but the message was soberingly clear. Had it not been for the many photos and videos of their beloved daughter, this family would have nothing of Emily to hold on to after her sudden, and untimely death.
A truly eye opening tale of fame and misfortune, reminding us all that Heaven is indeed not so far away.
http://princessgarbageface.blogspot.com/2015/12/the-mouse-of-mouse-mountain.html
