Circa 1975

My name is Danielle and twenty days ago my entire world changed. You see, I haven't always been the snot-nosed little rug rat that you see right now. I used to be a grown-up, with a job, responsibilities, a social life, everything. When I think back on all that I had...and all that has been lost... sniff I just break down sniff... excuse me while I wipe from my eye.... It's all just so unfair! Gosh darn it all she had no right! No right to take my life away from me! You see? You see how much I've lost? I can't even let off a good curse word anymore. It's just so unfair, I think I'm really going to break down and cry this time. I really do. I haven't yet, 'cause I can't give up and truly act like a baby, 'cause if I do, then she will have won. I can't let her win.

Ah...what do you know? You're a real baby, not a fake one like me. You've never experienced the world without wearing a diaper and plastic panties. You've never known the joy of eating real food. Or, the satisfaction of earning money at a job you love. The thrill when a man sweeps you off your feet and you're so mad in love that you don't know which end is up or what day it is anymore! You've never gone to school or had an orgasm. Driven a car or stayed out all night getting drunk off of Tequila shooters. So why in Gosh darn heck am I telling you all this stuff!? Why am I so dumb as to think that you: Miss slobbering stinky pants, could possibly understand anything I tell you!? Why? 'Cause you, drool breath are the only friend I have left, the only person who understands me when I talk. All the grown-ups hear when I talk is baby talk, gurgling and gooing, no real words at all. The only conversation I can have with a grown-up concerns one of three things: how cute I am, am I hungry or what are the state of my diapers. It's enough to make you sick to your stomach. I usually end up wanting to do physical harm to one of them and if I wasn't less then three feet tall I would. Believe me.

Ok. Here's the point of this lunatic raving, while I still have your attention. I think even you might find it interesting. Even more so than the fingers you are currently sucking on so enthusiastically right now. I know how to get out of this cage they've stuck us in. I know this 'cause three days ago I got out and escaped for a while. Listen carefully stink bomb and I'll tell you how I did it.

Three days ago I had had enough. I decided I had to try and escape somehow from this life of rug rat-dom I had been forced into and get my grown-up life back. So I knew the fist thing I had to do was get out of the play pen. I had noticed that every time I moved from one side of the pen to another the floor rocked a little. Heck sometimes it rocked so much I thought it would knock me onto my little behind. Therefore I deduced that with enough force I might be able to knock the play pen onto its' side and I could then easily get out. So I toddled over to the far side of the pen and gathering up all my energy I ran, as best I could, and knocked into the railing on the other side. Are you getting this? Well, it didn't work. At first. But not giving up I kept running with all my might into that railing and after about twenty tries the play pen came crashing down and I was free! Though I didn't realize it at first. I was so exhausted from my efforts and stunned when I fell and hit the floor that I just lay there for nearly a minute before I sat up. Realizing I had done it, I was out, I needed a plan of what to do next. Unfortunately I hadn't worked this out earlier and I wasted precious minutes just sitting there, during which I peed myself. This was the stimulus I needed to get moving, as it reminded me exactly why I had wanted to escape in the first place, to get my grown-up life back. A life in which wet diapers didn't have a place.

So I ran, as quickly and quietly as my small baby feet could move to the hall telephone. For it had occurred to me that if I could just call my boyfriend this nightmare would end. Once or twice I stopped and hid, to make sure that no grown-up was coming to investigate the noise that the upturned pen had caused and to make sure I was all right. Both times I heard a wonderful silence and I thought I was ok. So, I reach the hallway and stop one last time, wasting precious seconds, before I picked up the receiver of the telephone and began dialing. I had just finished and was waiting for my boyfriend to answer when I heard the footsteps behind me. I turn around, stunned and needlessly fill my pants with yesterday's lunch. My towering captor admonishes me for as she puts it: "playing around with something that wasn't a toy" and then wrinkling up her nose she needlessly asks me: "Did wittle Danni fill her diapers?" I make a mean face at her and then proceed to cry my eyes out from a combination of anger, frustration and the discomfort of my pants. In a very demeaning way she picks me up and carries me upstairs to be changed and put down for a nap. I may have failed to get my life back, but at least I know how to get out of this play pen and have a little fun. So how 'bout it? Wanna get out of here?


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