I had seen these awful abominations labeled as toys prior, but for the price tag they carried, never offered them more than a passing chuckle. Essentially, their gimmick is… they smell. Sounds innocent enough, right? Well, let me introduce you to some of the illustrious members of the Stink Blasters family. We’ve got Elephant Drop Eric, Rotten Egg Reggie, Butt Breath Bob, The Duke of Puke, and Matty Manure to name a few.
So, someone somewhere thought it’d be a great idea to market toys to children that smell like unwashed butthole and prostitute panties? Apparently so, and recently on one of my routine visits to the local dollar stores, I found a bunch of these guys marked down from their original hefty price and being sold for $1. Although I couldn’t find Dog Breath Danny, or Never Wash Nick, I was able to get my hands on another special smelly somebody.
Allow me to introduce you to Pizza Face Pat! Pat grew up in Pittsburgh, where he suffered through a pretty traumatic childhood. Kids would pick on him, both literally and figuratively, resulting in fits of rage and pepperoni binges. Whether it was making fun of his oversized and misshaped head, to picking tomatoes and other toppings from his cheese-like skin, Pat didn’t have it easy. Pictured here in his favorite leather jacket, he adopted a rebellious lifestyle, and wore the red shoes because, well, they just fit so damn comfortably.
Pat got his first job at the tender age of 17, working at nearby Sal’s Famous Pizzeria. He got in trouble the first time, for suggesting to the owner, a fiery tempered Italian, that he not only feature pictures of prominent Italians on the restaurants’ walls, but also images of other diverse races and peoples, including potentially others from his own unique lineage, like Fish Mouth Fred and Blue Cheese Charlie. Later, he was fired for yelling at a customer, who accidentally mistook Pat’s forehead for their dinner.
Pat lost his virginity at the age of 18 in a barn on a chilly autumn night, to his lifelong crush, which oddly resembled a garlic breadstick. They made love to the song “Someday We’ll Be Together” by Diana Ross & The Supremes, and it couldn’t have been any better. I should know, I saw the video in a college dormitory one raucous weekend night, and contend it’s the single most important piece of video footage since the JFK assassination.
This could potentially be my favorite piece of the package, and I can’t readily explain why. Just the idea of a stink bag, with requisite crude artwork of a sewer hole covered in toxic muck, brings warmth to my heart. If that makes any sense to you at all, then I consider you a friend.
I’m feeling all of this love and admiration for my new pal; then, I opened him from his plastic tomb, and my opinion of him was instantly changed forever. Holy shit, he smells bad! I don’t know how he coerced anyone into hiring him, let alone, giving him fellatio. Almost instantaneously, my entire apartment smelled like the remnants of a year-old pizza that’d been sitting in the sun, and doubling as a mattress for two skunks to procreate on. It didn’t smell like a delicious, fresh from the oven, piping-hot pizza; nope, it smelt like roadkill stuffed with Parmesan cheese.
I tried to look past his offensive smell, and I even stuffed him in the Stink Bag, but not even that could eliminate his pungent odors from my life. I never assumed I’d be retching on the floor immediately upon opening a toy. I eventually had to bid adieu to Pat, and send him back on his way into this crazy world in which we live. I hope one day he can truly find his home. I hope one day I can adopt his fashion sense, and ability to be himself regardless of the consequences or circumstances. The next time you see someone, in the classroom or workplace, that’s overcoming adversity and discrimination, think of the brave Stink Blasters like Garbage Truck Chuck and Fartasaurus Frank, and find inspiration in them.
Overall Grade: C+