ijustcantstopthinkingaboutballs

these are toys. for children. people buy these for their children. there are probably children who ask for these toys. some poor team of factory workers has to oversee the production of these things. a talented artist had to sculpt their faces, bastardized parodies of human emotion. someone else had to paint them, every detail from their dead unseeing eyes to their fleshy pink tongues, unable to taste the salt of human skin or the metallic tang of human blood yet still flailing in perverted glee, sliding over their plastic teeth like sick worms over dirt. every day these as of yet unpurchased abominations sit on their shelf, in a secluded corner of toys r us. waiting. waiting for the poor child who doesn’t even know any better to receive then for their birthday, or for christmas, or maybe even just a gift from a grandparent who doesn’t know any better either. do not buy these. keep these out of your home. don’t even look at the pictures; i fear my time may be short for photographing these cursed artifacts