The search is endless. The treasure unattainable. There was a time in my life, a simpler time, of all things wacky, wally and crawly. Where has my life led me? Whatever happened to you, Wacky Wall Walkers?
Wacky Wall Walkers were an instant hit in my household growing up. It's not hard to understand why, once you factor in the main selling points: One, you get a sticky octopus that can fit in the palm of your hand. Two, you get to throw it at a fucking wall.
We always seemed to have a never ending supply of the damn things, or at least a constant flow of varying incarnations of the idea. At the time, every company seemed to have their hand in the "sticky thing that tumbles down walls" pot, so it was only fair we snatched up every single thing that would do the trick. As long as we got to watch something hang from the ceiling for a few seconds, we were golden. When will it fall? How long will it stay up there? The suspense was maddening, let me tell you!
Wacky Wall Walkers, I believe, were outstandingly popular. I only say this because I didn't know a soul who didn't own eight-thousand of 'em. They were cheap, fun and shaped like a baby octopus. I don't know how to put more emphasis on that. That bulbous, brightly colored head is just really cool.
There. That'll do the trick.
Throughout my life, I've been attracted to that moment in time where the plain joy of pitching an underwater sea creature against your closet door was the greatest show on Earth. I crave for that wonder. I've been craving for it, and today, things have whirled into a cacophony of bright, new opportunities. I've found my wacky, walky Holy Grail. I'm on the brink of personal salvation. I'm primal!
Sticky, tumbly fun! We're here! We've made it!
Yeeeeah, there already exists a thousand of these things today. I'm sure the trend has never let up, and in fact, a quick Google search has guided me to sites that sell retro, easy to buy versions of the original beast. So he (she?) never really left my life. I just haven't really cared until...well, right now.
But that's alright! I can't let the energy come to a grinding halt! I can't undersell these exclamation points! It's too late to turn back!
The packaging has dubbed him an "Outlaw Alien." He ain't no octopus, but he comes close. Harboring six legs, two of which are really teeny and cute, and a single, leering eyeball, he certainly can pass as one of you squint just right. The eye is a nice touch, though, which seems to be looking up. Perhaps he's scared of heights and this is his trick to overcome his fear. I'm in the same boat, pal. Fuck heights.
I even like the idea of this guying starting off as an innocent eyeball ripped from some one's innocent face, thrown into a vat of mutant goo and transformed into a walking, crawling monster from space. Maybe he was originally an astronaut. A scuffle ensued, things went sour, eyeballs were snatched. I think I've done over thought this thing.
I like how he's green, too. If you're a bug, you should be green. They've excelled in this requirement.
So soar, my little friend! Stick to the surface of my kitchen cupboard! BE WACKY!
Pictures don't do it justice, but he crawled. It was actually pretty cool, and brought back a lot of memories. It's hard the explain why I care, and what Wacky Wall Walkers mean to me, so you'll have to excuse the gushing. Wacky Wall Walkers and the like are good natured fun, unbeatable in their ability to turn something pretty stupid into an enjoyable experience. If you weren't there, you don't know, man. You just don't know.
So go out and buy one. Feel what I feel. Check the end sections of Toys R Us and the cheap-o toy area of Target that sells plastic dinosaurs and crappy puzzles. Buy it and don't look back. Revel in it's stickiness, marvel at it's...whatever. It's a bug that walks down your walls!
No regrets, baby!