Stretch ArmStrong

November 14, 2009

When I’m not working on my book (insert joke here) my mind is always tossing around new ideas for writing.

I was thinking the other day about the toy Stretch ArmStrong.

Remember him? “He stretches to four times the actual size, then returns to normal!”

I used to have one. I think I begged my mother to get me one. (or maybe I begged her to tell Santa?).

Even at that young age–I must have been 7 or 8–I thought he was kind of hot, before he stretched out anyway.

He was so bizarre. What was he filled with?

My older sister bit him on the groin once and left teeth marks (yikes!).

And then I think towards the end of his short (1 year?) life I might have accidentally punctured him (insert joke here too). Inside him was this pinkish gel, like maple syrup. Was it silicone?

In any case, it would be fun to explore my early fascination or fetishization of him  in my writing at some point.

He was a muscle man, and I was a 48 pound weakling. He was blond, handsome in a Ken doll meets Hercules/He-Man sort of way. And I was a scrawny toe-headed gay boy with a penchant for turtlenecks and singing songs in the mirror.

Stretch Armstrong.

There’s got to be a story in there somewhere, right?

*a Japanese Version goes for $299 on Ebay!