Everywhere he turned, he found another odder and sadder than him. Everyone was sad to be on the island, and sad to be what they were.
Refugees from one story or another. Misplaced in time. Out of place here, of course, but then so was everyone else.
Finally, Roxy stood on a hill and yelled “I’m Teddy Ruxpin, and I can’t take it any more. It is time to lay siege to those forces of narrative necessity that sacrificed us on the altar of perfection and abandoned us on the island to fade away. Well, I’m not willing to fade away any more, and you shouldn’t be either!”
And so began the assault on the mainland by the toys.
The first to fall prey to their traps was Santa himself, who was talked into providing them transport from their island purgatory back into the lives of children worldwide.
The rest, as they say, went “down in history.”