Attack of the Twisted Zombie Mannequins!

They're everywhere! They have dark smoldering creepy back from the dead eyes, peeling and chipped pale skin, skillfully painted on coiffed to perfection hair. Their expressions range from vacant, but intense to perplexed, but seething. They never smile and rarely have all their appendages. One look at these mannequins and you can't deny they are from another time and place. Definitely the 1950's. Definitely Caucasian. Definitely disturbed. And there's definitely a story as to how these macabre mannequins arrived here in the Medina in Morocco en mass. I'm pretty sure it went something like this:

The 1950's, prim, proper and crew cut to perfection. There was a booming post war economy and everyone finally had their dream ranch home, a stepford wife complete with apron and white gloves, tv dinners and jello salads. Mmmmmmmm....jello. Americans were living the dream, or so they thought. The 50's also brought the atom bomb, McCarthyism, J. Edgar Hoover, aliens, Roswell and fear. If you didn't fear the Red Scare and rally at the execution of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg then you could quell the real-life terror by welcoming in the Creature from the Black Lagoon, King Kong and of course Gawwwwd-zirrrrrra into your living room while you were nestled eating your salisbury steak tv dinner.

One group seemed untouched by fear. Martinis and Valium numbed the stepford wives to the outside world, but they did have an archnemesis. It wasn't the Communists, aliens or swamp creatures. No. They feared something far more threatening to their unblemished lives. They feared unmarred wrinkle-free coiffed to perfection mannequins with their blank unknowing uncaring transfixing zombie-like stare. If only they could be as stoically beautiful and completely vacuous. The mannequins must be stopped! At afternoon parties with the Hoover salesman the stepford wives began to talk. Something must be done. They organized. Never before and never since have Avon ladies and tupperware ladies put aside their utter hatred for each other and worked in collaboration before (with no quotas and no parties even). Their plan complete, the Avon ladies would first spritz the mannequins in their eyes to stun them, then they would remove their appendages so they could be stored in tupperware for their deportation overseas.

But where does one send perfumed mannequins without appendages? What country around the world is going through upheaval so great they would not notice the influx of such stiff useless immigrants? Ah yes, Morocco. Its French protectorate had ended and Morocco is once again ruled by king who has absolute power. In the chaos of the changeover who's gonna notice a bunch of stiff perfumed Caucasians who don't know the language and are missing some limbs? They just look "French", especially in the aftermath of WWII. That's when the mannequins entered the subculture of Morocco. Banished from a proper-limbed mannequin life, they took refuge in the bustling medina. Desperate for money they started their own apparel company called Rainbow Designs. They never had a formal education, but they made it work with hot selling t- shirts with sayings such as "Valley Girlis not Tomboy" and "I am Madly in Love with her". Specializing in jeans you might just be too masculine to fit your junk in and not be able to button up. Sending subliminal messages about equality throughout Morocco. It's more of a quiet revolution than a clothing company really. They have created their own little utopia where everyone regardless of their level of education, number of appendages, sexuality or cheap shoddy workmanship is accepted. But beware, they are slowly staging their uprising. You can see it in their zombie eyes if you dare to look next time you're in the medina.

(I have personally interviewed a random sampling of mannequins in the medina and I will vouch for the complete accuracy of all recorded details in this post, but not for the grammar or spelling.)