The Daleks have Barbie holed up in the dollhouse. She’s hiding out in the attic with only a Zhu Zhu Pet and a stuffed elephant for company. There’s not much space. Apparently Santa couldn’t afford the actual, full-sized Barbie house, so she’s having to make do.
But there isn’t time to dwell on the shortcomings of her lodgings with the unrelenting chant of her attackers – “Exterminate, exterminate” – ringing in her ears.
If that wasn’t enough to make Barbie quake in her ridiculously high heels, a collection of toy soldiers also lies in wait. And there’s a back-up battalion leading from the battle ground to the top of the stairs. Watch your step! They’re armed and dangerous.
But the threat doesn’t end there.
Every pillow in the house has been strategically positioned on the stairs so any attempt at escape comes with its own set of risks. One wrong move and anyone caught in the crossfire will be seeing the floor close up in nanoseconds.
Suddenly, there’s a cry for help from the kitchen. A four foot warrior wielding a neon lightsaber has his sister cornered. Her only options are to turn the nearest cookbook into a makeshift weapon or attempt hand to hand combat. She opts for the latter (of course).
Then out of nowhere comes the distinctive sound of Nerf gun fire. The rebellion has begun! Those who were enemies are now kin in the fight for survival.
“Into the fort,” cries one, diving for cover beneath a precarious pile of doonas, cushions and assorted furniture.
“You can’t escape!” yells the youngest.
“Pause!” says the oldest, retreating to the couch.
“Victory is mine!” says a muffled voice from the fortress, before the stronghold comes crashing down (softly) on her head.
Ah, holidays . . .