Because my parents didn't love me.Remember it? The gun had a magnet on the end and you used it to pluck one of the "bullets" from along the bottom edge and then shoot them at the targets.
Hours, I tell you, hours of fucking fun - lost. Lost because I didn't have this toy.
14 comments:
My folks gave me a real gun, with bullets. And encouraged me to play. I think they were tired of trying to potty train me.
Wow, at least you knew about this game.
My parents must have enforced a media blackout on the toy in my house to prevent me from incessantly whining for it.
My cousins had that! I would make a bee-line for it any time we were over their house. It totally rocked.
Since we did not have this at my house, my older brothers would just pad me up with sweatpants, send me out in the back yard, and take aim with the air rifle.
How sad, Chris. And I'm really sorry to outdo you right here on your blog, but I may have been the only kid in America who didn't have a bike. A BIKE!
Don't you feel better now? Waaaa!
I didn't have this either. Never knew about it so I'm assuming Splotchy's answer to be true for most parents.
I didn't have one of those either, but at least I had a spud gun to mollify the grief. I got to carry a potato in my pocket (still do) and shoot vegetables at people.
I remember that. I never had it either, but I had plenty of other war toys to play with. I still do.
I wish my brother had this toy. Instead, he had a BB gun, and he liked to shoot at his sisters.
Don't let your parents forget it.
Chris, if I listed all the stuff I asked for and didn't get, I would waste my time in a very serious way. I felt very fortunate when one year I got a brand name toy. I think I'm good with it now.
Well, you are an adult now and there are all of those ak-47 knockoffs out there. You and the little woman could set up a shooting range in the back yard and spend some quality time together, provided you aren't a CONVICTED felon. If you are, have her buy it.
Doc
That's it. I'm calling the authorities on them.
I remember admiring that toy from afar as well.
And remember the thing that my parents told me they'd figured out a couple of years ago-- that I am the one who'll be picking their nursing home eventually.
I used to be jealous of the kid down the street that got all of these toys, but in retrospect, I probably only needed one-third of the therapy he did from all the crap that his parents pulled on him.
I loved this toy. I had totally forgotten about it until now.
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