It was a hot July day when the shipment of toys arrived at the back-water toy store in the middle of Central Garage.  It was a small store for a small town.  Not that there were any children still interested in the types of toys that were sold.

The toy shipment had come in on a large truck that sat in the lot behind the store, waiting to be unloaded.  The owner of the store was busily attempting to make space so the shipment could be stored and the driver dismissed.

He was a thin man with short, well kept black hair and soft green eyes.  He had inherited the business from his father when his father's hands had become riddled with arthritis and carprol-tunnel syndrome at the age of sixty.  He had quit his job at the New York Times to take it over.

"Hey, Mike! You almost done in there?" the truck driver yelled through the door.

"Hold on Doug, one more box and I think we can get them in here."

Mike hefted the box onto a different shelf and mentally guess-measured the now empty area.  With a satisfied nod he walked out to the truck and told Doug that they could start unloading.  Mike climbed into the truck bed and reached for the first box.  There was a loud roar and mike felt something heavy hit him in the back of the head.  He fell forward, spilling the contents of the box onto the floor of the truck.

It was dark now, and mike could hear laughing.  High pitched, child-like laughter echoed in the belly of the truck.  Mike rubbed his head and allowed his eyes to focus.  The laughter was now a little louder than it had been.  He couldn't see anything at all.  He felt something grab his leg, followed by a sharp pain that hit just above where the thing had grabbed.  He cursed and reached down to see if maybe he could find out what it was.

Soon he realized that he no longer had a hand, just a bleeding stub.  He screamed and passed out.  A period of five minutes went by before the door to the back of the truck opened and Doug looked in on the horrifying scene.

Mike no longer had a left hand and had lost his head.  Doug was silent as his eyes fell on a single, ugly, Elvis doll sitting on Mike's chest.