Elbow-deep in the bargain bin, Beverly notices the side of a box called "Bodyzzle", most certainly a portmanteau of "body" and "puzzle". It sounds like an educational toy, and Beverly is all about educational toys, so she picks it up for a look.
On the main face of the box is a merry family scene. A biracial family: white dad, black mom, mixed little boy and mixed little girl, all together in a cozy living room. Dad is sitting on the couch, watching the children play on the rug with pieces of mom's body. The way the pieces are scattered all over looks a bit artificial, as do the smiles on everyone's face. Even mom's head, nestled on the couch across from dad, is smiling. A speech balloon says "Turn your body into a living puzzle!", while a panel warns that "Sharp parts must be kept out of reach of children". Age range 2+ years.
Beverly flips the box around, and its contents rustle like coins. The back of the box provides more detailed information.
"Teaches colours, numbers, body parts."
"Develops visual memory, patience, goal setting, and more."
"No batteries required."
Below these statements are two side-by-side pictures of the model playing mom. In the first picture she stands in a relaxed pose, trying not to look sexy while wearing as little as a gray sports bra and matching panties. Not exactly, she is also wearing the product itself: a series of sweatbands of every color of the rainbow, to be worn in twos at specific joints. From red to purple we have neck, shoulders, wrists, stomach, hips, knees, ankles. The bands also have numbers on them: 1-1, 2-2, and so on. A cartoon arrow guides the eye over to the other picture, where each sweatband has been separated from its twin and, as a result, mom's body has come apart. Beverly counts twelve pieces: head, chest, tummy, pelvis, legs, feet, arms, hands. The stumps are covered by thin disks of appropriate size and shape, made of a glossy material, each colored to match its surrounding band. A zoom balloon popping out of the first picture shows how this is achieved: we see a close-up of mom's neck with a red disk halfway through it, inserted between the two sweatbands.
"Highly stretchable elastic bands and self-sharpening magnetic blades designed to suit most body types."
"Patent technology ensures smooth cuts that are both painless and aesthetically pleasing."
"Cellular memory anti-injury system: bands and blades react with organic tissue to become unremovable until a correct match is made."
Two more pictures, smaller. The one on the left portrays the little boy trying to attach mom's foot to her arm, and is marked by a red X. The one on the right, marked by a green tick, shows the little girl doing it right by attaching a hand there.
At the bottom of the box is a list of warnings. "Intended for use by adult subjects of both genders; not recommended for pregnant women." "No parts of this product are to be used for other purposes than those illustrated in the booklet." "Supervision of a non-participating adult is required during play; after use, all parts must be put back into the package and stored out of reach of children." And so on.
Made in the USA.
Beverly weighs the box in her hand, considering the purchase. The brand doesn't ring a bell, but the product looks quality enough and the price is extremely interesting. She looks it up online but finds nothing, apart from a nearly empty Facebook page.
Who are these people? Can Beverly trust their product? Is it going to be good for her little niece? If only she could try it before buying...
A rummage through the bargain bin turns up nothing: her "Bodyzzle" is the last one left. Beverly shrugs, tucks the toy under her arm and walks away, resuming her search down the festively adorned aisles. At least now she has a plan B, in case she can't find anything better.