I welcome you to an area of the Toyshed which I warn you will not be pleasant. If you're a fan of toys I must caution you of the horrific tales that will be found below. If you have a weak stomach, please stop reading and don't read this article. For those who do, you will find tales of shattered dreams, angry parents, horrific friends, and of course abuse on toys. Welcome to ToyShed Tales of Terror!
Thank you all to submitted to this. As promised your names have been left annoymous. Now let the horror begin...
- I had a bunch of the first generation of Star Wars action figures, and one day I brought them to school and thought it was a fun game to throw them up in the air as high as possible and let them smash on the ground.
Why It Pays to be a Collector
- Ever since i was born i used to have a Tracey island Thunderbirds toy set, complete with the different 'birds made to scale. They were metal, not plastic, so it was a pretty high quality set I guess. So anyway, my parents sold the whole thing, maybe for around £10 at a car boots sale after it hadn't been played with for around a decade. Next year, the live action film comes out. My dad checks on ebay, and lo and behold, there are similar toy sets being sold for £100+.
-When I was in the 5th grade, my brother and I were playing our Atari 2600 in the morning before the bus came. The bus stop was right outside our house, so we did this all the time. Well this day we weren't paying attention and almost missed the bus, so we ran out to catch and left everything on, and apparently left the door wide open. My Dad was so pissed he made me and my brother go out to the garage and get two hammers and then made us smash it to bits!
What a Pal
- I loved playing war with my friends with our toys. Espically, my good friend Jimmy. My other friends, Jack and Bob both of whom lived next door and two houses down where more video gamers than actual toy fanatics. Greg who lived the furtherest from us again was more a gamer. But we all gamed together. Be it toys, war with our toy or squirt guns. It was always a fun time. However, I loved playing with Jimmy the most because he shared the same interests as I did. If we where at the other's house we divide the lot we have and then use what we had. Accidently one year alas I lost my Mobile Command Center when Jimmy "accidently" broke the hinges that kept it together. Then one day after he had come over I noticed that my new B.A.T. and old B.A.T. where missing. This was starting to become a recurring theme. I began to notice a lot of figures and weapons for them where disappearing at an alarming rate. At first I thought I had simply misplaced them, however after the B.A.T. incident I began to realize that they where being stolen by my good friend Jimmy. I just couldn't believe he'd do it.
Jimmy was a kid who got anything he wanted. His basement was a kid's playground heaven. He owned everything but the Fright Zone from Masters of the Universe. Yep that's right he owned Eternia (the HUGE playset that had three towers and a train-like track that went around them all). His G.I. Joe collection was huge. Like myself he possessed a Rolling Thunder, Mobile Command Center, and unlike myself the huge Space playset. Not to mention a ton of G.I. Joe vehicles that I can't even list because how vast his collection was. But I had Terrordrome too. I never could wonder why he would be jealous of the things I had, but he was. The two B.A.T.s disappearing proved it to me. Unlike other kids, I didn't tell my parents and kept it to myself. When I came to his house and when he was indisposed of (bathroom break) I took a peak into his toy box where he kept his Joes. Then a look at where he kept his Joes' weapons. To my horror I found a ton of weapons I thought I lost in his toy box and some additional figures. So I kept what was mine and never mentioned the incident to my parents or Jimmy had no clue what was taken I had taken back some of what he stole from me.
I never talked to him or played with him again, but the story doesn't end there. Two weeks later Bob wanted to talk to me. Not soon after another kid (whose name escapes me), Jack, and Jimmy approuched. Of course by this time Jimmy had realized what I did and out of nowhere Bob hit me behind the back. I then got kicked in the gut several times by Jack who kept telling me, "Do you know why we're doing this to you?" I said, "yes." Jack grinned at me cheeringly as Bob held me up and took a swing into my gut, "Good, so you finally realized we where just using you? We never liked you. The only reason we where friends with you is because we liked taking your stuff and passed it amongst each other. We where only using you, nothing more." I'll never forget the realization of that hitting me that all three of my so called friends where enjoying beating me.
At this time I was on the ground still in a bunch of pain but I then ran for it since the odds where so not with me. I ran for it but they gave chase. I hid in an area where they couldn't find me and when they split up to look for me I made a B-line to the apartment complex where I lived. One I don't remember found me, but by that time I locked the door to the apartment building and finally told my parents what happened.
My parents then asked the Landlord to now lock the door to the apartment complex. My Mom told me I was never to see them again and anytime they called innocently asking, "Could Greg come out and play?" My mom would answer for me and say no. I avoided Jimmy, Jack, and Bob at school eventually a year later transfering away from them to another school. I rarely saw Jimmy or Bob after that. Jack I saw more, but again I avoided him and then eight years later my parents and I would move out of the apartment complex into a townhome.
But the scars of that incident lingered with me for a long time. It took me a while to completely trust people. Probably one of the reasons I've not kept a friend longer than I have since college. Still, the story isn't over. My Dad, several years later revealed to me what he did to one of them. It answered a long lingering question I always had. You see one of my trio of friends had a cat who loved to visit our yard. One day that cat decided to enter the garage where my dad was working on his car. Like always he usually had a snack with him while he worked on his car. He took part of the snack and some rat poison that was on the shelf that our landlord used. My dad then gave part of the snack to the cat laced with rat poison. Yeah, my dad killed one of my friend's cats. He then disposed of the body though he never told me how. I always wondered what happened to that cat. Course I never asked to find this out, my dad literally confessed this all to me blurting it out one time in a fit of rage. Thus ends my tale.
Now, Dan's favorite character of all time was Boba Fett. And he had the original version, and it still fired it's rocket. He was NUTS about that thing, and obviously, I was never allowed to use it, only him. :)
Well, one day, we decided that the forces of Cobra would entomb Fett, after he betrayed them, deep within the Earth. Would he ever return? Well, apparently, the answer was NO, because we dug the hole, and it was ONLY about three inches deep, and we buried him, and we covered him entirely so as to prevent the Joes and Luke Skywalker from finding him.
We did our job too well, though. That was fifteen years ago, and I lost touch with Dan over ten years ago. And to my knowledge, that toy was never found, and Fett still resides in his Earthy Grave to this very day....
Finder's Keepers- When I was like ten years old, I Was living with my mom and my stepdad. My Stepdad's brother and his wife had taken in a "troubled" kid from the neighborhood, whose parents were dead or in jail or some shit. Later on, in our teens, we would end up doing drugs and getting in trouble together, but at this point, we were still playing with GI Joes and shit. So he didn't really have any toys or anything, so I brought a bunch of my GI Joes and Joe vehicles and stuff over there so that we could play with them every day. Then one day, we got in some kind of fight and we weren't going to hang out anymore (don't worry, it worked itself out, as I remember doing drugs with him later in life). So I went over there during the day, when he wasn't home (Summer School or some shit), and picked them up. Now, those fucking things were mine. Believe me, if there's one thing knew back then, it was my GI fucking Joes. But when I got home later that day, my Stepdad's brother had accused me of stealing some of them, sayng some were the other kids. My Stepdad, possibly starting me down the path of drug abuse, criminal behavior, and self-destruction, took his side, and forced me to give some of them "back." Gi Joes were like my most prized possessions. I watched the show every day, I played with the toys every day. I was very fucking pissed.
Chew on This
- I always lamented the day my first generation Han Solo action figure got his face chewed up in the lawnmower and when my folks bought me a replacement, it was the Han Solo with the big head and goony face. I was like, what the fuck? the first one looked just like him, this one looks like a total dufus with a really bad haircut.
It was really really depressing. Han and Chewie were my favorite characters, I had the big plastic Millenium Falcon, and now I'm supposed to let that mongoloid drive it???
I was so happy when Empire and the Han in Hoth gear figure came out, even if he did look overdressed when not on an ice planet.
Don't even get me started on when they changed R2-D2, or how amazingly cool the mail order Boba Fett with the rockets that were spring-loaded. When he hit the stores they'd fused all the shootable parts to the figure for safety.
Hello Mr. Peanut
- A number of years ago the woman I was living with had a dog who had an odd fetish. I had a large plush Mr. Peanut, with the monocle and cane and everything. It was a promo item. The dog would go nuts and hump the shit out of Mr. Peanut every time. I had to keep it hidden, if I went to the can at a party one of my friends was sure to find it and throw it in the middle of the room while everyone laughed and laughed. I'd get pissed, damn it, that thing might be worth something some day!!
- Christmas 1985 my older brother and I got quite a nice haul of Transformers. He got Optimus Prime, Mirage, Wheeljack and Ratchet. I got Megatron, Sunstreaker, and Iron Hide. These were the highpoint of my Christmas.
Sadly the good times didn't last. By mid January my brother and I had broken all but one each. Megatron's arm snapped off, Optimus's trailer was destroyed and his fists were lost etc etc. My mother swore to never buy us Transformers again.
She never did.
- Long time ago, my brother was in his teens and I was 8 or so. I REALLY wanted him to play He Man with me, but he wanted to be with his friends and whatnot. I apparently was bugging him and he told me, "Zach, if you come up here one more time (i was downstairs) I'm going to break that fucking castle."
I bugged him again and he took my Greyskull out to the deck of our house and chucked it off the deck. It SHATTERED into many pieces. As an extra insult, one of his friends gave me a piledriver that really hurt. I never got another Greyskull and I tried to glue it back together, but I couldn't make it work.
Father Knows Worse
- My cousin had a huge collection of Transformers. His dad would break them on purpose. Never found out why. His dad had these old movie monster model kits that were complete and probably worth money. He gave him to his son, my cousin. My cousin bought newer ones and then would smash the old ones to bits. Psycho.
- My story isn't as tragic. My little sister, the brat that she was, thought it was fun to pull the heads off of my Barbies. One of the neck thingies broke off with the head of my Beach Barbie. Mom wouldn't buy me a new doll so she gave me one of her old Barbie's that had no head. It sucked because mine had special moving arms and was all tan. This old body was a grayish flesh color with blotches of ink stains. Never did get the plastic piece out of the head. Made it odd shaped once put on the other body. A few months later my sister broke the neck of one of her Barbies. Mom went out and bought her a new one. She kept the broken one too which just had a crack.
There was also the time our parents thought we had too many toys (even though we were dirt poor) came in one day with two big garbage bags. Filled them both up and gave them to the local used goods store. Nothing like being a little kid and watching your parents give half your toys away.
You Might Also Like:
Comment without an Outhouse Account using Facebook
Note: while you are welcome to speak your mind freely on any topic, we do ask that you keep discussion civil between each other. Nasty personal attacks against other commenters are not welcome here. Thanks!