Here Come the Scuzz

I grew up in the eighties and I never owned a GI Joe. Or a He-Man. Unless you churn butter and shun technology all day, that's unnatural. I did have this guy that kind of looked like He-Man, but not really. He came from a flea market. He had Roman Centurion armor and some kind of robot horse. The horse was pretty cool, so that got to hang out with all the cool toys in the Styrofoam fortress, while it's no-name rider in the chain-mail skirt was condemned to patrol the bottom of the toy box for all eternity.

In retrospect, I'll bet he had some harrowing adventures down there, battling all those nasty centipedes I'd always find when I had to dig for something near the bottom of the box. And when they all lay slain at his sandaled feet, maybe he began a quest to reach the top...to freedom.

I'll bet in his travels, he must have come across Pedro, a souvenir from South of the Border. Pedro had seen the surface, and he knew the quickest way to get there. But the path was fraught with peril, and Pedro had nothing more than a poncho and a painted-on smile, and you can't fight peril with a poncho and a painted-on smile. He used to have a sombrero, but lost it in a poker game to a headless Max Rebo figure. Losing his most cherished possession to a headless blue elephant in a diaper had taken it's toll on Pedro, and he drowned his sorrows in a bottle. The Centurion needed a guide to help him on his journey, so he offered his swordsmanship skills in exchange for Pedro's services. So the two set off into the darkness in search of their freedom. They braved the treacherous Go-Bot Cemetery, where scores of broken Transformers knock-offs wailed and howled as they tried to pull trespassers into the unforgiving sea of cheap plastic below. They bested the foul-smelling rubber dinosaurs and wave after wave of naked McNugget Buddies, the first line of defense of the fabled McDonald Clan. They even beat the dreaded Monchichi. Yes, the Centurion and Pedro the drunken Mexican stereotype were quickly becoming legends, as word of their heroics spread throughout the box. It seemed as though fate was on their side, and although the fight with the Monchichi left them feeling drained, it was only a matter of time before they were free. After fighting their way to the top for years, they would soon be finished with it all. The musty smell they had been all too accustomed with at the bottom of the bin had been replaced by the slightly less musty smell of the open air of the basement. It wouldn't be long now.

But alas, it was not to be. For as the Centurion neared the opening, he was trampled by an army of genuine second-hand He-Man figures that my brother got from a neighbor. In his final moments, the Centurion saw what it was that he could never be. A desirable toy.

Pedro was able to push an armless Stinkor figure off himself and escape, but not before losing his poncho in the hustle. Now completely naked, Pedro looked down and realized he had no genitalia. Horrified, he took his own life.

Yeah, that's a lot cooler then the stuff I used to play. But the point is, we had all these generic toys, like the kind they sell in supermarkets and pharmacies. Some were knock-offs of well known brands. Others were based on obscure cartoons that no one remembers now. One such toy came from Bravestarr, a short-lived cartoon about cowboys in space. It was this fat little troll guy in a little black flying wagon. His name was Scuzz.Outlaw Scuzz.

Scuzz had seen some time at the bottom of the box as well, but not much. Even though he was the product of a failed attempt to market an obscure TV show, he found himself a new career as a character actor. I'd use him for a giant troll to terrorize my Lego castles, or the sleazy second in command to the perennial arch-villain, an Imperial Guard from Return of the Jedi . I only had one Imperial Guard, so rather than being a nameless minion, he was the purveyor of all things evil. At least until I dropped him while walking up the stairs and his damn fool head popped off.

My youngest brother is turning eighteen this year, so old Scuzzy's been collecting dust in the basement for some time now. That is until last week when we stayed over at my parent's house. Brianna wanted something to play with, so I was sent downstairs to look for the box of Playskool Little People. I couldn't find it, but I did see the little troll guy, so I picked him up and brought him up to Brianna.

"Here's a toy."

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

That was the abridged version of what happened. She had this look on her face as if the small plastic toy in my hand sprung to life and promised her it would eat her flesh as she slept. The packaging for Scuzz is long gone, but I'll bet somewhere on there it must say something about "May not be suitable for six year old girls."

Of course, I tried to show her that it was just a toy and couldn't hurt her by repeatedly sticking it in her face. That didn't help at all, and got me in trouble with several authoritave parties. Later on, my mom tried to show her it wasn't scary by saying it's looks silly, but it still freaked her out and caused much crying. I guess I have a little ways to go before I figure out little girls. It's just a toy. Look, he's eating cake!



Enjoy it, Scuzz. You made it from the bottom of the toy box to the toast of the town. Plus you scared a six year old girl. That's gotta be good for your credentials, being evil and all.