In 1990 M.U.S.C.L.E. toys had worn out their welcome and POGS were still a few years away. Young boys everywhere demanded something to collect and Monster in My Pocket heeded the call. Besides being the most inappropriately named toy line of all time (which I learned the hard way on the playground from my female classmates when I threatened to show them said toy) the Monsters in My Pocket franchise also extended to other mediums. Comic books, trading cards, an audio cassette tape, and even a surprisingly entertaining NES videogame were all spawned from the series. I, of course, had to have them all.

The tiny plastic figurines had a bit of taboo and mystique surrounding them. “Hey kid, scared of the boogeyman? How about Alu, the Assyrian spirit of vengeance, who contaminates your body with crippling diseases? Are you afraid of the ghosts under your bed? I’d be more worried about Baba Yaga, the Slavic witch with chicken feet who kidnaps and devours the flesh off small children just like you.” The choice of monsters were both eclectic and terrifying. Not only were the toys fun but they proved to be incredibly educational. Where else could a seven-year-old learn about Charun, the Estrucan god of the underworld from a dead, pre-Christian, Pagan religion? They were small, they were scary, they were my friends and I could take them anywhere.

Yet, like all fads, the Monsters ran their course and our Bugle Boy jean pockets were soon emptied. At a garage sale in 1993, I reluctantly unloaded my entire collection of mythic beasts for five dollars. Though, I did have to throw in a Hungry, Hungry Hippos that was missing most of the marbles just to satiate the greedy demands of the buyer. Every once in awhile, when I reach for my keys or cellphone, I get a little giddy hoping that my fingers will be greeted by a familiar hydra or griffin.  Alas, my pockets at the age of twenty-six are sadly monsterless.