Like most children born before things like video game consoles were part of the household, I had a huge bag of Green Army Men that I would play with (and by play I mean destroy with fire).
Cheap, fun and yes, easily destroyed by pliers, these toys were the staple food of childhood imaginative play and it's a shame that these little choking hazards aren't handed out with more regularity.
But then again, if I had access to an entire box of plastic flesh eating monsters as a kid, then perhaps I wouldn't have had to undergo intensive therapy due to the aforementioned torture I inflicted on innocent army guys, and the belief from my parental units that I was going to grow up and be a serial killer.
Like, maybe if I were found pouring lighter fluid on zombies, instead of, say, a symbol of America's fighting strength before setting them ablaze, I would have been labeled a hero instead of a possible psychopath.
Seriously, I'm not a killer.
Source: Kid Crave
