Goo

They're starting to build a new house on the corner across from the boat at the edge of the elementary school playground. I was shocked to see it come down last month. It was Michael Kerr's house. I think we went to kindergarten together.

Every year for Haloween his parents used to turn their garage into a haunted house with lots of streamers and cobwebs, flashing lights and sound effects. Once you had managed to get through to the back of the garage, you got the standard handful of candy and then your pick of creepy crawlers that Michael had made himself.

You remember creepy crawlers, don't you? They were kind of like easy bake ovens for boys. You filled the moulds with purple and green goo and then waited with eager anticipation for the oven to ding so you could peel rubbery cockroaches and spiders out of them. They were the absolute coolest toy, because what child is immune to the infinite charm of goo and bugs?

I certainly wasn't and I needed my own creepy crawlers kit. I needed it. I NEEDED IT because it was so damn cool. That'd be about the same year that I was Dracula for Haloween and frightened that people would recognize me through the disguise because of my very distinctive squarish-with-receeding-corners hairline, I dictated that my mom should make some facepaint modifications to my face which resulted in the most retarded black triangle in the middle of my forehead, which, for whatever reason, was in no way connected to my hairline at all.

Long after the candy was gone, the rubber bugs remained and I finally convinced my parents that I too needed to be able to fill the world with my own gooey creations. I opened my presents on Christmas day only to find that I had gotten treasures and trinkets instead. It was practically the same thing as creepy crawlers except that it was coated in pinkness. Instead of using green goo to make centipedes you used pink goo to make hearts, stars and birds. This was clearly not the same.

As far as girlie toys go, I only ever had a cabbage patch doll. No barbies, no my little pony, no polly pocket or whatever everyone was playing with at the time. I had, however, a full set of mutant ninja turtles action figures and a large assortment of books. The only explanation as to why I got the wrong gift was that they were out of the cool version, maybe. Because otherwise it makes absolutely no sense.