Saturday, July 01, 2006

To Be Sung To I Dreamed A Dream

I smelled a smell of time gone by,
When I was short and my bike had four tires.
I smelled a smell that made me high.
I smelled oddly scented plastic.
Then I was young and easily persuaded,
And Beastman was dyed and covered in green fake fur.
There was no explanation to be made.
No story told of why, or how, no exposition.

But Hasbro had a plan,
With thoughts of getting rid of backstock,
And they conned a million kids,
And they ponned Beastman off as Mossman.

He fought a summer in Skeletor's pride,
But should he have fought with He-Man, I wondered...
Without backstory I didn't know which side,
And he was boring by the time autumn came!

And still this smell comes back to me,
Not once but thrice in this past week,
But these are smells that shouldn't be,
After twenty years they should have expired!

Two solutions to this mystery:
They're marketing plastic-scented perfumes,
Or for discarding contrived toys with such ease...
Nostalgia must be haunting me...


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