Seanan McGuire (seanan_mcguire) wrote,
Seanan McGuire
seanan_mcguire
  • Mood: nostalgic
  • Music: Evil Dead, "Blew That Bitch Away."

Toys that just don't cut it anymore.

When I was a kid growing up below the poverty line in California, I had a lot of toys that were "the hot new thing" about ten years before they wound up in my grasping little hands. This included the glory of the Creepy Crawlers machine, from Thing Maker. (Modern parents, prepare to be completely and utterly appalled.) It consisted of a small, open-faced grill component capable of baking things at incredibly high temperatures, nine solid metal molds, a metal hook for lifting the hot molds out of the "oven," and a bunch of bottles of liquid sludge called "Plasti-Goop." You plugged the oven in, chose a mold, filled it with multi-colored ooze, and then watched in amazement as heat slowly transformed harmless slime into boiling molten death plastic, and then into cheap quarter-machine plastic bugs, amphibians, and reptiles.

Best. Toy. Ever.

If my mother thought it might be dangerous for me to spend hours sitting on the steps in front of our apartment wearing cut-off shorts and breathing the fumes from a boiling cauldron of molten plastic, she never said anything; really, she probably figured it was cheaper than eating paste or sniffing markers until they dried out (big hobbies with the other kids on my block). Besides, my infinite supply of interestingly-colored plastic creatures meant I only tried to beg for quarters when I wanted gum or a superball, and that was much more reasonable than trying to feed my endless hunger for hideous horror movie props.

I was, I think, nine when my sister (Rachel, the youngest one) wandered innocently out onto the porch, grabbed hold of the cord on my Creepy Crawler machine, and gave it a good yank. The machine promptly flew into the air and stuck to the side of my right calf, at which point I began wailing like a banshee on acid. The machine fell down; the mold didn't. My mother came running out of the apartment and sensibly grabbed my little sister, who was in serious danger of being pitched off the balcony once I finished screaming, and then ran back inside to get some ice. I managed to knock the mold off my leg, leaving an enormous glob of bright orange molten Plasti-Goop behind. More screaming.

Mom came out, and wiped away the plastic; my leg was already starting to blister. I still have the scar, a strawberry-shaped white patch about the size of a man's thumb print on my right calf. It makes an entertaining conversation piece, since "Where did you get that scar?" is rarely answered with "My sister spilled a molten plastic caterpillar mold on my leg."

I miss my Creepy Crawler machine. And if I had it, there's not a parent I know who'd let their children near my house ever again.
Tags: dangerous games, my mom is nuts, so the marilyn
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  • 96 comments

I HAD THAT TOY!

lastwordy_mcgee

January 27 2010, 16:05:41 UTC 7 years ago

I'd completely forgotten about it until just now. Oh my god, I can smell the goop right now. I can feel the hardened plastic, which was so, so smooth except for the little swirl bump near the middle, where the bottle had been lifted. And the damn salamander toes always broke off in the mold.

Wow. What a sense memory. Thanks.

My father still won't buy me a rock tumbler, despite the fact that I am all growed up and stuff. He says that I broke too many of them and suspects I would still try to shove a brick in there, because a big, smooth, red rock would be an awesome paperweight and conversation piece that I could tell people was a petrified lump of yeti kidney or dragon spleen. I simply have no idea where he gets these crazy ideas. Everybody knows carnelian makes the best artificial petrified organs.

My friends with children don't let me tell stories from my own childhood. They fear incidents involving marshmallows, 200 rabbits in the bedroom, a enormous pile of grated soap, and secret passages dug through dry wall. I have tried to explain that their fears are groundless, since chances are their children do not have access to 200 rabbits, three dozen bars of soap, or dry wall tools--they do not care. Those kids are missing out, I tell you!

Re: I HAD THAT TOY!

seanan_mcguire

January 27 2010, 22:21:59 UTC 7 years ago

Your friends with children need to embrace the awesome of your childhood. 'Cause dude.

Re: I HAD THAT TOY!

melissajm

January 27 2010, 23:07:59 UTC 7 years ago

You grated soap too? Cool! Mine was for magic Pixie Dust.

Re: I HAD THAT TOY!

lastwordy_mcgee

January 28 2010, 01:47:48 UTC 7 years ago

Shampoo. I made shampoo. There is a long story behind that which I might post tomorrow.

I grated a shitload of soap--I lived in a multigenerational household, with relatives who'd lived through the depression. They tended to hoard things in bulk.