Hillary Boone Cartoons: 2013

Saturday, December 28, 2013

Scary Toys

In honor of the Christmas season, here are the top three scariest toys I've encountered during my 28 years of life.

THIRD PLACE

My Grammy braved crazed soccer moms and four a.m. store openings in Greenwich Connecticut to secure a Furby for my rural Vermont Christmas. Five were delivered covertly to a department store and hidden throughout, while women drunk with need milled outside in the darkness. Grammy found my Furby buried in the towel section and snatched it out from under the greedy claws of a pregnant woman.

It was unfortunate that not more than a month later I determined that the Furby was ~~probably~~ definitely trying to eat our cats. I conferred with my small brother, who suggested we remove the batteries. We did and both remember that the Furby did not cease it's incomprehensible chatter and rapid eye movements.

I regifted it to the small child of a family friend, and within a month she had fallen prey to its clutches. Much like Frodo with the Ring of Power at Mount Doom, Amy waited until the door to the steep basement stairs was left ajar, made a maniacal dash for the opening, and hurled the Furby to its untimely demise.

There is something terribly unsettling about a robot that is almost lifelike but not quite.

SECOND PLACE

What are these? Why did people keep buying these for me? Why were they naked? What was the belly jewel capable of? Why would it have real hair if it couldn't be brushed or styled? Why was it bigger and shaped differently than the other plastic action figures, rendering it incongruous and inappropriately serene amongst Ninja Turtles or X-Men?

Ultimately, the creepiness of the troll boils down to its complete lack of defined purpose and the unavoidable conclusion that therefore it must be nefarious.

FIRST PLACE

Finally, the scariest toy I've ever seen, the Elf on a Shelf. I cried when I learned about the Elf, not from fear, but from relief that I was an adult at the time and would never be subjected to his watchful eye.

The Elf arrives in December. Children are told that he has come to live with them for the month, and will magically fly to the North Pole each evening to report on their behavior to Santa. Every morning the Elf is in a different location, often posed in a goofy or mischievous way. Kids can look for him but they CAN NEVER TOUCH HIM as this would sap him of his powers.

The Elf is fun for some, but I know of other children who will not speak of the Elf in their own home. They wait until they are safely out of earshot and talk quickly in hushed tones about how the Elf operates and what they think it might do to them in their sleep. The worst part is that mom and dad are in on the ruse- no one is safe, not now, possibly not ever.

I think about the Elf often. Play among children and animals is a developmental necessity to practice skills that will be utilized as adults. In a country in which data is collected constantly about our whereabouts, buying habits, cell phone usage and email conversations, perhaps the Elf on a Shelf is a necessary development.

"It's better if you think of the NSA as magic and whatever overlord it reports to as benevolent. And if you aren't doing anything wrong, why do you care if a creepy little Elf is tracking your every move in your own home?"