Don’t Toy With Me
Shelly, my wife, found it on display near the entrance of Toy-Mart and fell in love with it. I hated the thing. I thought it looked like the love child of a spider monkey and a hamster. This toy, the latest interactive nuisance to storm the unsuspecting public, was a bundle of circuits, gears, and sensors called Monkey-Man, and was guaranteed to drive any parent stupid enough to buy one insane.
Monkey-Man stood about a foot high with stubby legs, long spindly arms, three-fingered hands that hung to the floor, and a thin torso. Every inch was covered with fur except for its face, which was molded from soft, pink latex. Its face was like that of a small, rosy-cheeked child, its mouth and eyes were closed in inactivity masked as sleep. I knew from the commercials that
