Some of you might remember My Buddy dolls - almost life-sized toys shaped like little boys, serving as a sort of surrogate best friend for kids who didn't have real ones. And, let's face it - boys who put large dolls atop their Christmas lists weren't the type who had many friends anyway. It was a sinful desire, the kind that made you the laughing stock of the playground.
It's a shame that a handful of cruel comments and insinuations would keep young boys from the delights and pleasures they could only find sharing tea with an inanimate object, but times were different and those sort of things were only socially acceptable if you pissed sitting down. If girls could whisper their most intimate thoughts into the plastic ears of their dolls, why were boys denied it? Who drew the line? When does the division of the sexes become the subtraction of basic life needs? How is Ron Popeil still selling rotisserie ovens? Doesn't everyone on the planet own at least three of 'em by now? Folks, why ask why? Try Bud Dry.
Just when hope seemed out of reach, like a quarter that rolled under the refridgerator or a scab located so centrally on your back that it's impossible to reach and pick off, something magical happened. AmToy, a company who was never really known for creating any big trends in the toy market, leaped right into immediate contention with the big boys by selling the one and only doll positively a-okay for boys: My Pet Monster.
He's three pounds of terror. He's furry, he's fuzzy. He's got horns. He's got a big nose. His fleece is white as snow. My Pet Monster rode a fine line between 'cute' and 'scary,' just the right mix for kids who didn't know if they wanted to hug and kiss or to just scare the crap out of their sisters. He gave you options. More importantly, he gave you your first pair of handcuffs.
Around two, maybe two-and-a-half feet tall, he was a bonanza of spooky colors, exaggerated body parts, and enticing flamingo pink tufts of hair. There's no way to really explain why these things were so popular. My Pet Monster just had some intangiable qualities about him that made kids want to be his friend. Since our other friends couldn't very well call us doll-toting sissies when our doll had devil horns and gremlin fangs, we were more than happy to oblige. Some kids adapted a Calvin & Hobbes type of chemistry with their Monsters - others just threw him in their pile of birthday gifts while shouting 'NEXT.' I was somewhere in the middle - I didn't really care about him at first, but within a few weeks, my mother had to put out table settings for the thing and assure him that the turkey stuffing was raisin-free. My monster dolls hated raisins. And personally, I always thought they shared the aesthetics and texture of rabbit shit.
Above all else, My Pet Monster just looked really cool. If you can appreciate unique, non-derivative characters, here's one for the books. I like to think AmToy stumbled onto the his appearance sheerly by accident, a chance happening when someone spilled oil paint all over the preliminary drawings for more normal toys. At first, they were pissed. As the paint dried, they looked down to the canvas and thought: "Hey, this doesn't look so bad!" It's one of my favorite fantasies, but when I'm feeling really giddy, I change the last part so that they look down to the drying canvas and shake maracas to celebrate. My Pet Monster couldn't be conceived by a human brain - he's too otherworldly. His birthing must've been some unforeseen miracle only predicted by the wise old seer of Mystical Mountain. Or maybe they just started marketing toys based off a pile of kindergarten art projects. Either way, it turned out great.
There's no shame in little kids having imaginary friends. Unless the kids are stabbing people under their influence. "Pretend friends" are a proven commodity as far as psychiatrists are concerned, who believe they help children develop a stronger sense of morals, friendship, and the art of dealing with people. Of course, this theory came into play because parents don't pay psychiatrists 200 dollars an hour to hear that their sons are FREAKING NUTS. So let your kid go for it, he's not hurting himself. Unless his imaginary friend is trying to persuade him to watch Moesha. Then you gotta put your foot down.
My Pet Monster had a lot of great features - silver paws, beady bloodshot eyes, scarred green nose, the works. But the really cool thing was that pair of handcuffs. See, by buying the monster, you were setting him free. The toy stores thought he was out of control, so they kept his hands locked together and shoved him behind heavy Fisher Price playsets. Kids were doing the right thing by asking for a My Pet Monster - they were promoting freedom. As a reward, they got to keep the handcuffs.
You could put half of them on your own wrist, creating the special kind of bond with your doll that can only be found using rough sex props. Fortunately, you were still too young for anything you did to be considered kinky. It was innocent fun. Since the cuffs were totally removable, it didn't take long for kids to lose 'em and cry for hours on end. After a suitable period of grieving, we moved on. But boy, did we miss those cuffs. They were so cool. So durable. So orange.
They were also breakable - intentionally, I mean. The gimmick was that your monster was so powerful, he could break the handcuff chain right in half. But since you could wear the cuffs yourself, the feature enabled you to feel like Thor or some other really powerful superhero with "Strength Level - 10" listed on his Marvel trading card. See it in action:
Little Billy Smith had a complex. His friends at school always said he was puny, and made fun of him whenever he had trouble lifting his bookbag. But once he brought the My Pet Monster handcuffs and showed off the magnitude of his might, he was a hero. A hero to the boys, Elvis to the girls. The teacher still thought he was spoiled shit, though. Regardless, the cuffs helped Billy overcome a tough time. He was so appreciative and touched that, when it came time to write a poem during an English lesson, his focus seemed only natural:
My Pet Monster was recently re-released, and you can still find 'em in toy aisles today, probably with a clearance-level price tag. It's worth buying even if you're over six-years-old. I can't tell you how well these things dress up a couch. They're the ultimate conversation piece, and you'll never have to worry about breaking them. I also like looking at it so I feel prettier by comparison. It's got more uses than a Swiss army knife, and I don't mean pointless uses like always having a toothpick on you or always being able to uncork a bottle of wine. It's got real uses. Monstrous uses. 50% polyester uses.
Every kid had one, and with good reason: My Pet Monster was one-of-a-kind. The only other stuffed companion like it was Alf, but he was nowhere near as fun to play fake games of checkers with. Mostly because Alf dolls were tougher to keep propped up in a seated position, and he always fell over midway through the game to seemingly indicate boredom. My Pet Monster was always attentive, and always full of love.
In the spirit of Halloween season, I hope you enjoyed my little tribute to the scariest cute doll there ever was. If you didn't, I'll cuff you to a staircase and beat you with rocks. Fortunately for you, the cuffs have break-apart action. Damn plastic monster weapons. You'll pay for this.
Hey: You got 50.00? Click here to buy an X-E Mystery Box!!
- Matt
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