Tuesday Mystery Box!

Mystery Box, how do you do? Where did you come from? What will you bring to the table to keep this Tuesday night from sucking ass? Mystery Box, what the hell is inside you?

Well, hey!

M.U.S.C.L.E., Monster in My Pocket and those tiny Marvel superhero figures I bought a while back, blogged about and hid away as soon as I was done -- that's what's hidden inside your plain, white walls. All are great and fun and wonderful, but the Marvel stuff, at this junction in my life, is not worthy in comparison to M.U.S.C.L.E. and Monster in My Pocket, but where else was I to store them? For today, cast aside they shall be.

Now, I notice I tend to repeat the same sentiment over and over -- I like beer, I love it when it's not Monday and I'm obsessed with tiny, collectible ghouls and freaks that resemble bright and delicious candy. I'm not sorry about that. I yam what I yam.

These were in a corner of my room, mixed in with old notebooks of lyrics from six years ago and dust covered Halloween decorations. I can't say I totally forgot they were even there, but when I retrieved a dropped alarm clock and caught glimpse of an unmarked, mysterious box, I couldn't help but be drenched in curiosity.

Grabbed it, set it aside, opened slowly and dramatically. My mouth was salivating and agape, my eyes were wide and feral. I'm telling you, guys, it really was dramatic.

It's a good thing it contained a menagerie of evil monster plastic, because if this Mystery Box...if any Mystery Box, for that matter, was filled with used guitar picks or old Dunkin' Donuts receipts, I would have went into a hate filled rage. I would have pounded my fist on the table, cursed loudly and nursed my broken hand with ice because I have weak bones don't judge me.

Basically, you don't fuck with Mystery Boxes. You just don't.

Look at them. Just look at it. How could you not fall in love? An entire universe of bizarre and horrible little creatures to collect, play with and chew on. If these weren't already riddled with bite marks and dirt, they'd already be in my mouth.

Growing up, I had a ton of these damn things. I swear, each gargoyle-faced freak brings a number of good memories, whether it be throwing them into the bathtub for underwater adventures or just being terrified of the one M.U.S.C.L.E. dude who was half naked and had really creepy looking lips.

Do you know what I'm talking about? M.U.S.C.L.E and Monster in My Pocket? I understand it's good etiquette and style, but I hate recapping and summarizing for the sake of setting up a story and creating a general literary direction. It's time consuming, hurts my head and I'd much rather assume we're all on the same page here -- it's so much easier thinking we all grew up in the same town, played with the same toys and watched the same cartoons. Astonishingly delusional, but much easier.

Every couple of weeks I get the urge to hit up eBay in attempt to buy the remaining four thousand of them in one massive purchase, but my past happiness and all the childish memories can never be duplicated, however much money I spend. See: I don't have any more room in my apartment.

It was hard to choose my Top Three, so I took a stance and specifically went on what personally effects me on a deep and emotional level, and which ones could actually stand up for a photo.

Purple Robot: I can't say this doesn't resemble Rosie from The Jetsons, nor can I say that a blocky android can hold a candle to other such characters in the lot. You've got a six-armed monster here and man-snakes over there, how in the world can this grape computer even compete? I think it's the simplicity. It works for me. That or I just really like robots.

Pink Turtle With a Vest: This was an easy choice. Monster in My Pocket was a medley of Draculas and spider-women to have and love, keep in your overalls and talk to before you went to be. No violence or anger was intended. M.U.S.C.L.E, on the other had, was a line of toys to snatch up and pit against one another. They're mini-wrestlers with big attitudes and fucked up genes that have mutated their bodies into godless wolves, inhumane beasts from far off worlds and...well, a turtle. A fucking turtle. Against an army of madmen and the deranged. Pink Turtle With a Vest is an underdog, a true believer in a fight against his life, and that is why he deserves a spot in my list. He has a vest, wears shoes and parties on the weekends.

And in a fight, that ferocious turtle beak is a hell of a game changer. Trust me.

Red Demon Bird: Mostly, with both toy lines, you're offered a lot of bruisers and musclemen (duh) so a candy-apple red eagle of death is just the right mix of weird and supernatural to stand above and beyond the pack. He can fly, he can punch and he can peck really hard. I only chose the adjective "supernatural" because I deem him capable of ghostly feats. Like cruising through solid brick walls or spying on a ton of boobies.

And for the record, yes, they are holding each other's hands.

What a beautiful thing to end on.