Well, we've been through a lot together, but all good things...

I'm Spider-Man, and this is the final chapter in three too many articles about Crayola Crayons. We've already reviewed 64 of those colory waxy funsticks; today, the final 32 get their day in the sun. First, let's make with the introspective.


Crayons, dear crayons. My love affair with Crayola began many decades ago. One of my aunts (not the one you know) used to pen me up in her sewing room with some dusty yellow legal pads and a coffee can full of mostly broken Crayola art batons. She'd smile softly at me before heading back downstairs to cook dinner, confident that the broken crayons would amuse me for the three hours she spent preparing meals. They rarely did, but the crayons were always good for a half hour buzz. I'd bring everything from space shuttles to Lucifer to life on those legal pads. It was a great time. That aunt was so my favorite aunt. All May had were Bic pens. Just the black ink kind, too. Ick.


Uh oh -- "Laser Lemon." It's from the special legion of ultra neon Crayola crayons -- the kind that sound awesome in theory and always have neat names, but never quite do anything magical when put to paper. All of these sorts of crayons are just way too bright to really color anything with; they're streaky, freaky, altogether, Tiki.

Still, you can't resist a name like "Laser Lemon." I picture lemons with exhaust pipes, beaming around the room like those Tinkerbell rip-offs Mace and Cindel shat hearts about in The Ewok Adventure.


Oh whoa, Atomic. Oh whoa. Atomic. Oh ohh.

"Atomic Tangerine" is even more enticing in name than that freaky yellow -- I'm about to call it my latest favorite crayon based on the name's merits alone. It sounds like a Duran Duran song mixed with a new Blow Pop flavor.

If I ever get to name a new firecracker or variety of ecstasy, "Atomic Tangerine" it will be.


Yo, you know what's mellow about this yellow?

NOTHING.


"Electric Lime" and "Neon Carrot." God those names rule. Neon carrot is way too bright to color in normal carrots unless you're prepared to explain to anyone who might peruse your art portfolio that the goal in mind was to create and color radioactive carrots snatched away from the bunny farm on Three Mile Island. Where Adam Bomb and every giant spider from 1950s cinema comes from.

And "Electric Lime?" I'm pretty sure we danced to that one at my cousin's wedding, after the DJ felt comfortable enough to get saucy. As a crayon, I've seen better. It looks like it's gonna make this really kickass vibrant green, but on paper, all ya get are these shitty trails of dried sprouts. This is one crayon for the trade pile: adequately named to entice fellow traders, but much too shitty to be concerned about keeping. Ideahatchers beware: I've already trademarked rights to the phrase "one crayon for the trade pile." You cannot have it.


"Wild Blue Wonder" presents an interestingly pale shade of blue, the kind you'd use if you needed to give someone you drew hypothermia. Or if you wanted to color in some tribesmen about to let loose on a ritualistic painting of the face using only mud and scooped out bird eyeballs. I'm pretty sure the combo would come out "Wild Blue Yonder."

"Wild Watermelon" -- God, don't you just want to chew it and try to make crayon bubbles? Again, the color strays just a bit too far into neon territory to be of any use on paper, but screw me if I don't want to keep smelling the thing until it smells like watermelons. It never does, but it always looks like it's about to.


"Purple Pizazz" is better than I expected -- a nice, clear shade of sweetened purple. Plus you get a free pass on using the word "pizazz" whenever holding this crayon. You can't say without sounding like a complete jerk...unless you've got the crayon. I like to cash in all my pizazzing yearnings whenever I have the chance, so let's pizazz our pizazzy way down to the pizazz so we can piz and azz with the pizazziest of 'em all.

That felt good.


Here's "Hot Magenta," named after the incestuous busty slug from Rocky Horror, or alternatively, a gross misspelling of "hot magma." Either way, I have a feeling I'm standing too close to the camera. Can you read the wrapper? It says "hot magenta." For those who can't see, I'm not making this up.


OH MY GOD! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS PINK CRAYON!

"Shocking Pink" will strike a chord with most crayoners -- you've heard the term used before, applied to everything from lawn flamingos to lawn flamingo party lights to ceramic coffee mugs shaped like lawn flamingos to real flamingos on your front lawn. Or is that "Flamingo Pink?" Let me rephrase this.

I'm shocked that a crayon can be this shockingly pink, and to prove it, I've doodled a bunch of shocking pink stars on the convenient sheet of clean paper that just appeared behind me. Shocked?


Okay, got a couple of oranges here. "Sunglow" is great for just that: adding a bit of yummy glow around your drawings of suns. Makes 'em look even hotter. Add sunglasses and viola -- you're in the running to work for Sunkist's raisin division once the fumes from that paint set kills the old lady there.

In my other hand, "Outrageous Orange." Hm. Doesn't seem that outrageous to me. It's not hurling insults at my mother or embarking on a wild adventure through the Forgotten City of Hu-Cajara. Only Kraven ever did that.

I gotta find out if this crayon's truly outrageous.


This crayon is not truly outrageous at all! "Outrageous Orange?!" Try "Rageous Orange." Orange ya glad this is the last crayon review ever?

And I do mean ever.


"Razzle Dazzle Rose," "Radical Red" and AHHHHHHHHHHHHH "Screamin Green." That last one hence the AHHHHHHHHHHHH.

They're all basically just bleached-out versions of crayons from the almighty Original Eight. Well, except "Razzle Dazzle Rose." That one's an enigma. I think they put it here by mistake. I was supposed to get "Your Mustard's Yellow." I swear I was supposed to.


"Inch Worm" is decent. The color kinda blows, but the connection to green bugs'll make you feel compelled to color every reasonably buggy thing in with it. My inch worm looks like one of those wigs the old English judges used to wear. Only it's green.


Dahctah, Dahctah. Mario, whoa oh. Whoa ho ho oh. He's got the cure!