Unhatched Mischief: The Soft-Boiled Schemes of My Antique German Elfie Doll

This vitelliform, for approximately one hundred years' time, has been under the yoke of his shell, but has come to me, a commiserative lass, to dispel his self-contained captivation.

Elfie, a Kewpie-like sprite, with his side-glancing eyes and golden topknot is, according to the Theriault's virtual catalogue, purportedly a late-1910s Seyfarth and Reinhardt piece. He, with his Kennedy-shaped head, poses alongside all-bisque Goebel and Heubach action babies. In the final photo, the buoyant babe natantly navigates Crystal's COVID-19 Soak Centre for dolls—a malleable chartreuse-green bowl—immersing himself in an eirenic excurse through relucent spumes of soap.

Also, the tuxedoed fellow, who resembles Sir Patrick Stewart—an uninvited guest, somehow privy to an unplanned welcome party for Elfie, my birthday gift—dreams of his mounting a tea sachet-shaped raft, cascading down calescent, refulgent rapids of Earl Grey tea.