Drama Queen by Elaine Peters

The queen of the playroom drew herself up to her full height, all of two foot six, and glared down at her subjects scattered around the floor. 

‘This is a disgrace!’ she shouted, flinging out her arms and sounding uncannily like her mother. ‘Get this room tidied up this minute!’ 

The dolls lay unresponsive on the carpet, long lashes demurely lowered on tinted plastic cheeks. The one-eyed teddy bear lolled against the toy box, his missing eye gleamed in the shadows where it had rolled over by the radiator. Lego blocks and jigsaw pieces, plastic farm animals and crayons, all lay around as if dropped from a height. 

The tyrant queen heaved a big sigh. ‘I suppose I’ll just have to do it myself,’ she declared in dramatic tones. Then she stomped around the room picking up her toys and throwing them into the toy box. 

Peeping in from the landing her parents tried hard not to laugh out loud at their little girl. Her father marvelled as she relentlessly cleared the floor. ‘You don’t see that very often.’ ‘Is that what I sound like?’ her mother whispered. ‘Maybe I should go and help.’ 

‘No, no. Leave her to it, she’s doing a great job! What would it take to set her to work in our room, do you think?’ He dodged as his wife gave him a playful punch on the arm then they went downstairs to wait for the little despot to finish her housework. 

Published in Issue #11

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