#0113: Spoink & Groink

Nearly a decade ago, I opined on the glory that was Aaahh!!! Real Monsters. The misadventures of Ickis, Oblina and Krumm taught us lessons in peer pressure, the merits of hard work, and how if you have enough faith, you too can regurgitate your own intestines to frighten your enemies.

My opinion on the show remains starry-eyed and largely unchanged, to the point where I had to delete the original opener to this article as it closely paralleled exactly what I said in the preceding post. Dick move, 2012 Tony, you totally stole my bit.

Incidentally, I was talking about Ickis in that post, a pillar of the main squad, and it got me to thinking that ARM (horrible acronym) is a fairly top-heavy affair. Beyond them, you've got The Gromble, Simon the Monster Hunter, Zimbo and The Snorch... and that's about it, really. There's that duo of wonderfully camp monsters that Krumm hangs out with briefly, and the dude who enjoys himself some rice, and after that, I'm tapped out for recurring characters.

And that's fine, of course. As long as your foundation of core characters is strong, you don't need to bloat the roster with excess. That is, until you score yourself a toy deal and have to pluck some marketable characters out of thin air.

Because truth be told, as much as Blib, Snav and Don exist in the super distant periphery, they're not exactly going to shift many units. And that's how you end up with the Aaahh!!! Real Monsters Dare to Scare line, and the arbitrary introduction of Spoink & Groink.

According to the flavour text on the back of the box, and yes that flavour is spit: "these two really know how to project themselves! But it's Groink who always shoots off his mouth, especially when Sproink is in it! For maximum velocity and ferocity, shove Spoink down Groink's throat, punch Groink, and watch the terror fly!"

Wow, that sure is a lot of exclamation marks! It's also very revealing! At first I assumed that Groink was the dominant one in this relationship, but now I can see that he is actually the uke! I'll have to adjust my headcanon accordingly!

Anyone familiar with Gabor Csupo's distinct style may see some vague resemblance in Spoink's design, however Groink is entirely unlike anything you'd find in the series itself. Indeed, only four of the twelve monsters in this line were ever seen onscreen, in a manner not dissimilar to the bevy of auxiliary mutants Playmates would push out at TMNT's peak.

My curiosity was piqued by this contrast, and I was delighted to find that several of the final Dare to Scare products were actually repurposed models that a toy designer, Mel Birnkrant, had been trying to get onto the market for quite some time. He goes into great detail on his website, and it's really worth a read for a fascinating insight into the bumpy road of toy manufacturing.

But I digress. We're here for Tony's toys, Tony's opinions and Tony's reliance on the rule of three, so let's return to those, shall we?

Bastardised facsimiles of the original vision though they may have been, Spoink and Groink have some nice little details to them. The former's expression is perpetually locked into the kind of terror that can only be experienced after having some dude suck up your asshole repeatedly, while Groink actually has long, slender legs that match up with his spindly arms. It's a neat touch, considering how easy it would have been to just have him lack shins a la Cotton Hill.

My Groink has seen a little too much rough and tumble, or has been suffering a tragic bout of leprosy as one of his arms tends to fall off with little provocation. Considering that he were never intended to have movable joints in the first place, it's beyond me how I've managed to still loosen up this one arm so badly, like a poor chiropractor. It pops right back in there, but either way, I'm losing my license.

Also, I keep wanting to call him Gronk. I have no reason to believe the Bucs' tight end would suck up small creatures into his mouth before shooting them across the room, but you know what? He's a party dude, I wouldn't put it past him.

At last, let's put these spooky bastards through their paces by showcasing their vaunted creature feature. By my estimate, Spoink should shoot clean through the wall and straight into the brain of the nearest fascist.

"Eat the rich", he shrieks, his final moments on earth a deeply satisfying assault on the oppressive bourgeoisie.

A little too Raph

One of the caveats to clearing out my childhood toys is that there is a sub-category designed for petulant manchildren such as myself, that I somehow feel completely guiltless in acquiring on rare occasions — the deluxe action figures made not for playing, but for exquisite posing.

You know what? I work damn hard. I deserve to blow $100+ on Raphaels every now and then.

In a moment of frivolity, I partook from two of my most beloved Turtles iterations: the 1990 live action movie and the classic beat-em-up, Turtles in Time.

This Raphael is my favourite of all, to the point where I made a video about it that has surprisingly gotten some solid traction on YouTube, and the 7" figurine is about as picture perfect as they come. It nails Raph's sullen grimace, and while taking these photos I couldn't help but stop and admire the wonderful craftsmanship on display.

Here's Turtles in Time Raph about to throw down with Metalhead, offended by the accusation that he is a 'slimball'. He's much more bright and vivid than his toned down film counterpart, and comes complete with a hoverboard from the Sewer Surfin' stage.

You may have noticed that their poses are fairly static, and the latter Raph isn't even equipped with his trademark sai. I'm embarrassed to say, the reason for that is I'm too frightened to try to fiddle around with them very much. They've got alternate hands and more articulation than my actual body, and yet, they feel so important and I really don't want to break them.

So for now, they'll just kind of... stand there, ready for further instruction. Money well spent.

#0112: Short Stack

Ten. Fucking. Years.

Back in January of 2011, a bright eyed, whimsical youth elected to clear out some space in his closet by methodically disposing of his childhood belongings. He began, as one typically does, with a figurine of no particular emotional or fiscal value, before proceeding onto bigger and better (but mostly worse) things.

And though he would miss many birthdays — including this one, ironically — he would often reminisce fondly on the progress he'd made. In fairness, it wasn't much, and it was offset by impulse buys that would inevitably dwarf the departing products in size and volume, but you know what? He was still going to keep at it, one tiny little trinket at a time.

And today, that trinket is absolutely dreadful. Go hard or go home, they say, and in this belated tenth anniversary post, I opted to go home. I've settled on a grotesque, obscure item that I never even recalled owning, and most certainly won't regret severing all ties with.

That's right, boys and girls, Short Stack is coming to breakfast.

Fortunately, Google quickly proved fruitful in identifying this caky customer, identifying him as a member of Mattel's Food Fighters range from the late 80s. Boasting that they were "combat at its kookiest", this line introduced culinary warfare between Burgardier General and his Kitchen Commandos, against the wicked forces of the Refrigerator Rejects.

God, they loved their alliteration and puns back then, didn't they?

Short Stack is a member of the latter faction, and therefore, evil incarnate. Other than the fact that he wears a hat as opposed to a helmet, there isn't really much that differentiates him from the good guys, as every single one of them looks equally unholy.

I can't help but feel as if they all resemble shunned members of Mayor McCheese's extended family, and for the life of me, I am unable to surmise why, exactly, someone at Mattel decided to unleash these garish beasts upon the market.

Our dude Stacker may have wielded a weapon once upon a time, but due in no small part to my trademark carelessness, he now prefers to settle things with his fists or, on a festive day, laser skirmish. Apparently possession of an accessory and vaguely poseable limbs qualify representatives of this line as being 'action figures', and yet, I find myself less than convinced.

Is Short Stack ready for action? Or ready to star in a Jack Stauber video? Either is just as likely, and just as upsetting.

The bodies themselves are actually more akin to a dog's chew toy, and if Peppy were still alive today, I'd feel tempted to ruthlessly rip the plastic limbs off this sucker and subject it to an ephemeral existence with its hairy owner. Alas, with no canine nearby, I'll refrain from channelling my inner Sid Phillips.

Should you be curious about how the theoretical avail of my shitty collection of toys, Food Fighters carry a comparatively high price on the (super)market. A pristine, unboxed Burgerdier General presently has an asking price of $80, while the full set of ten in acrylic cases could net its seller a hefty $2,250. Whether or not anyone will actually bite on this delectable offer is another matter entirely, though you can't really go wrong with this sweet-looking BBQ Bomber for 18 bucks.

Overall, if I were to rate Short Stack and his ilk, I'd surmise that I hate them. The market didn't seem too keen either, with the line being scrapped shortly after their debut. I guess there was no room for soldiers themed around edible goods in the cutthroat world of 80s action figures.

But golly, they got a gold star for trying, and at the very least, these things were quite detailed, if not unnerving. They wouldn't look too out of place facing off against your favourite Ninja Turtle, or perhaps Napoleon Bonafrog, if you'd prefer to employ a B-lister for such an encounter.

Now if you'll excuse me, all this talk has made me hungry.