A Pizza Points Story / Blog Giveaway

The words “Pizza Points” are well known to those of us over the age of twenty-five. Pizza Points were essentially a proof-of-purchase that could be clipped and saved off the back of a Ninja Turtle figure box and redeemed for cool merchandise and prizes, and as a child, I imagined perhaps even a car.

A look at a section of a Pizza Points catalog reveals that the merchandise included pencil sets, beach towels, and what looks likes a very crappy plastic visor.

It may seem like the whole Pizza Points thing was your typical merchandising machine money grab, but I won’t talk bad about the Turtles. Ever. Not even about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 3.

I’d never committed to anything in my life. I was good for a go-around the cul-de-sac when selling fundraising candy bars, but after that, I was done. I’d try to convince my mother to let me buy of the rest of the bars. I couldn’t stick with karate for more than a month. And forget it when I said I was going to save my Christmas money for a few weeks. I’d already decided what I wanted on December 26th.

But saving Pizza Points? That was something I was going to commit to. I was going to get The Big One. All I needed to do was get all the figures, and I’d save enough points to get a freaking Corvette. I bet there were sewer lids for rims. Oh yeah. This wasn’t like playing with Monopoly money, either. In fact, the words “Pizza Points” were synonymous with the words “cold hard cash.”

Well, sort of. Well, not really at all. Ninja Turtle figures were worth two Pizza Points a piece. Even if I could have possibly conned my parents into buying me one Ninja Turtle figure per month—and that would have been quite the feat—at the end of a year, I’d have only had twenty-four pizza points. But that’s low-balling it. So let’s assume Santa also brought the Ninja Turtle Blimp at the end of the year, which was worth a whopping four points. That’s twenty-eight points. Hardly enough for a Corvette with sewer lid rims. (A red one, like Raphael, I had decided.)

The Ninja Turtles themselves would have surely scoffed at my twenty-eight pithy little points. And I didn’t have my whole life to save them holding out for The Big One. I didn’t have the patience. I didn’t even have the patience to chew my food before swallowing.

Not only that, but not losing the points would have been a miracle. A plastic baggy full of a small cardboard squares was the first thing to get thrown out when Mom was cleaning the pantry. I learned pretty much early on that life was crap.

But a closer look at the Pizza Point catalog would reveal something even crappier: you couldn’t even purchase an item with Pizza Points alone. You also needed some cash money mucho dinero. Each item had a set price plus the additional points. But hey, if you wanted, you could just pay cash in full—no points required.

What was that I said about the merchandising machine money grab? No, I won’t talk bad about the Turtles. Michaelangelo saved my life, once. Well, he didn’t—but that’s beside the point.

Recently, I’ve been having these moments that bring all of my childhood into a lucid perspective. Here’s one. I just turned thirty years old. Here’s another one. Calculating the true value of Pizza Points, they were worth only twenty-five cents a piece. Gee, a whole quarter. Let’s see. Figuring the cost of a Corvette in 1990, about $60,000, I would have only needed 240,000 Pizza Points.

Guess I’d have settled for that crappy visor. It would have been awesome and I would have looked totally slick in it at the beach. Except then some kid would have made fun of me for wearing a dorky Turtles visor, and to the closet it would it go for private worship only.

A while back on the blog, I asked whether there was even anyone out there who had ever redeemed a Pizza Point for a prize. Two folks came forward and commented. I found their stories touching, and I want to share them.

One mother, Reva, commented that she found them by accident. Twenty years later, as she was cleaning out the kitchen cabinets, she found a dusty plastic baggy of them, containing fifty six points. The contents of the packages were long gone, those action figures, games and play sets that her boys had to have. They never knew of Mom’s secret Pizza Point stash. She was saving them up and one day, she was going to surprise them with “a big special something.”

“I guess I have the big prize,” she wrote, “in the loving memory of my boys and their collection of TNMTs brought on by the discovery/recovery of 56 pizza points.”

Go ahead, it’s okay to tear up a little. I did, too.

Then another commenter, Travis, wrote “I do remember saving up enough pizza points to send in for a Ninja Turtle CALCULATOR…I can’t even find a picture of one on the internet.”

I understood instinctively what Travis meant in his all-caps stylistic choice for the word CALCULATOR. He probably once had dreams of getting the Corvette, too. Ah, but how often in life we settle for a cheesy calculator instead. Still, I was intrigued. Here was a living, breathing person who had redeemed Pizza Points. I had to know more. I did some research online and found some pictures of the TMNT calculators that might have been his. Next, I wrote him an email to find out more details.

He wrote me back with one of the funniest and saddest stories I’d ever read.

“My mother and one of her friends were at our kitchen table one day doing taxes or paperwork of some sort, and the lady asked if we had a calculator she could use. I’m not sure if my Ninja Turtle calculator was just really conveniently close, or if it was the only one in the house, but I remember my mother making me let her use it. The buttons were probably a little small for extended calculating sessions, so she used a pen to press the buttons instead of her finger. Fine, no problem. But this B!#@$ USED THE INK END AND F’D UP ALL MY BUTTONS! Haha. I remember yelling at my mother about it an showing her the “damage” but she didn’t seem to care. After that, it probably ended up going where pretty much all childhood toys go… wherever that is.”

I could relate. The story just felt like one of those childhood stories that is inherently true. First, you dream big, then you settle for a calculator, then your Mom’s friend damages it with an ink pen, and then you think about what a bitch she is. Eternal stuff that transcends. Kind of like Ralphie’s longing for a Red Ryder BB Gun or Elliott’s friendship with E.T.

Then Travis added, “I still see those Ninja Turtle ice creams on the ice cream truck and the eyes are usually in the totally wrong locations. It would be funny as hell if all those ice cream bars were just leftovers that they never got rid of in the 80s. If they had Super Shredder ice creams, I’d be all over that shit.”

I liked this guy. So I wanted to do something for him. I wanted to replace the calculator that was ruined as a child, and eBay was selling a box of the very calculators once available in the Pizza Points catalog. I purchased them and sent him one.

And now, I too, own an actual fabled item from the Pizza Points catalog. It’s getting better all the time.

As you can see, it’s more than a CALCULATOR. It’s a TOTALLY TUBULAR TABULATOR. Each calculator comes with a plastic slip cover, supposedly to protect against pen ink, and a place on the back to write your name so some lady doesn’t steal your calculator and mess it up. Right on.

And here’s what else I want to do. I’ve got five extra of these babies and I want to give one to YOU. That means it’s blog giveaway time. Here’s your chance to own an actual coveted item from the Pizza Points catalog. Each calculator is brand new, never opened, and while I can’t guarantee that it works, each of the ones I have opened have worked just fine. It’s powered by magical solar power.

Here’s the gist. Simply comment below. You guys have the most amusing things to say. So tell me a story about whatever you want. What would you buy with all the Pizza Points in the world? What did you get for Christmas? Where did your dog poop in the house where he wasn’t supposed to? What is the crappiest prize you ever settled for? How do you feel about polarfleece?

I’ll pick five winners at random and announce it next Monday, the 10th. I’ll send you a totally tubular tabulator for free—no charge for the stamps. Add The Surfing Pizza on Facebook to get the latest, and don’t forget to put your email in the form.

And there will be additional BONUS MYSTERY prize for my favorite story. And who knows, what if the BONUS prize was actually a Corvette with sewer rims?

Hey, you gotta dream, right?

UPDATE – Thanks for sharing your stories, ya’ll. I’ve emailed the winners, so check your inboxes!

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36 responses to “A Pizza Points Story / Blog Giveaway

  1. I had a traumatic experience with my TNMT toys when I was 7 that I’ll never forget. I always went to my cousin’s house next door to play and he two years older. Needless to say many of his friends loved to pick on the younger, smaller guy. One day while we were all playing, some of us with TMNT’s and WWF wrestlers and others riding big wheels on the downhill, winding sidewalk. That’s when a few guys took all my wrestlers and TMNT’s to the bottom of the winding sidewalk and began riding the big wheels over them. I was held back and couldn’t “rescue” them as they were repeatedly ran over. When I got them back, some of the TMNT’s were broken while all the toys were scuffed, scraped, and mutilated which destroyed me. My parents replaced some of the toys as they could afford but I never got them all back. I occasionally find an old TMNT or WWF wrestler at my parents that is scuffed up and I instantly get bothered by the memory it drums up.

  2. I remember a few years back when Pepsi had some points/trade-in promo going on too, and in their commercial they showed a Harriet Jump Jet valued at like a million points or something – anyways, some douche (and his lawyers, unless he was a lawyer himself – Possible, considering the douchy nature of his actions) postulated the cost per point, found it to be less than the actual cost of a Harrier jet, and actually tried to get Pepsi to give them a jet. Not getting a jet, because: really? And common sense and the US legal system being what they are, they then sued Pepsi.

    I don’t know the result, but my guess is that some lawyers made a lot of money and the rest of us are forced to suffer through more disclaimers because we’re all too stupid to tell the difference between real and imaginary.

  3. I remember that asshat Bubbashelby! He was a young guy, possibly a teenager. I remember seeing him on the news when I was a kid, and thinking that he had to have stolen all those pepsi points. How else do you get hundreds of thousands of points? Drinking that much pepsi in maybe less than a year’s time would surely kill you.

    I collected the pizza points too. I don’t think I ever cashed them in, although I do remember having a Ninja turtles beach towel. Maybe thats where it came from. Who knows…

  4. Yup! Looking back at the pic of the catalog, I definitely had that beach towel. I remember also that I ended up bleaching it, after taking it to sixth grade swim class without thinking (the turtles were long out of fashion by then, and it was also junior high) and I got laughed at.

  5. in the end i only ate 30 mcribs i met my goal and i saved my pizza points when i was a kid but they mysteriously kept dissapearing only later to find out a supposed friend was taking them when he came over to play

  6. When I was a kid, I HATED the girl toys purchased for me. All my Barbies ended up naked and with butchy haircuts; according to my mom, I removed their limbs, separated them, and put them in separate boxes. I don’t remember this AT ALL. Boy toys were cooler by far.

    But I LOVED slime. Any slime that was neon colored and packaged in a plastic trash can HAD TO BE MINE. After begging and begging and promising not to cram it into the thick shaggy carpet of the living room, my parents relented and bought me some He-Man Evil Horde slime. For some reason, I got the bright idea to put the slime in my day-of-the-week underwear and pretend I’d crapped my pants.

    My parents were not amused and confiscated the slime. And I got in trouble for, in their words, “ruining a perfectly good pair of underwear”. And I never got slime again.

  7. My nephew Matt and son Robert were so into Turtles when they were younger. My nephew was surprised on his birthday one year, when none other than Leonardo walked through the front door during his birthday party. He let out a scream, ran out of the house, and wouldn’t come back in until Leo left. Being 7 and having one of your cartoon hero’s show up at your house is the stuff of nightmares. Meanwhile, my son who was 4 just stood there watching every move that Leo made with a goofy smile on his face. They never forgot that birthday party. That is also the birthday party my daughter, who was 6 never forgot either. My mother in law and her identical twin sister had my daughter close her eyes, spun her around, had her open her eyes and try and guess which one was Nana. Those where the days.

  8. I had a pajama pillow with a snap on stuffed dog on top that I named Bluish. (Clearly, I was a creative even then, as the flat pillow and dog that came attached were actually blue in color… )

    My older brother delighted in taking the unsnapped sweet little dog that I carried around with me and pummeling it, to my horror and dismay.

    I don’t expect any awesome calculator prize, but hey – my damn brother, huh?! He’s just the same chump to this day, pressing down on a bruise if he happens to see it. Cheers — to the end of holidays, and

    Happy New Year!

  9. I am a bit too old for Ninja Turtles, so a prize should not be wasted on me, but you’ve reminded me of my most traumatic childhood toy stories, and now you’re going to have to listen to them.

    I was obsessed with animals going way back, and played with a basketful of plastic animals instead of dolls. I still have a vivid mental image of some of them, including a certain black horse. It was one of those cheap ones that isn’t even solid plastic, sort of hollow with its belly open. Do they even make them that way anymore? It was so small that a child could hold it in one hand, and that was my downfall. I was so attached to it that I took it outside after a big snowstorm to have it with me when I was shoveling snow. I just held in it my hand, while holding the shovel as well and shovelling. As someone older and wiser could have predicted, this could only end in tears, and it did. I never found it.

    The other memory is of a little stuffed dog. Again, it was small and cheap and not very detailed or realistic, yellow with brown ears, lying on its stomach. One night, the children of some friends of the family showed up at our house unexpectedly. No one really explained what was going on, but something was going on with their parents – I don’t know if they were just breaking up, or there was violence, or what, I’ve never asked. The kids only stopped by briefly before the adults took them somewhere else, but to comfort one of them, my mother gave her my little yellow dog. She was so sweet about it, and I knew that something awful was going on, so even as a child I knew there was nothing I could say, even though there were many other stuffed animals I would not have minded parting with. She had made the worst possible choice, but I couldn’t stop her. I had no choice but to stand there silently and watch her give away my little yellow dog.

    • I’m happy to listen. Also, who are you kidding? I’m too old for the Ninja Turtles.

    • Wombatarama, that is so sad. It’s weird how almost everyone I’ve ever talked to has a story of some toy they lost as kids that they still feel sad about.
      I used to have a toy truck. It was made of metal, which was unusual — most toy cars I had were plastic. I was playing in the sandbox when my mum walked past and asked if I wanted to go to the store with her. I did. When we arrived at the store, I remembered that I had l had left my truck behind. When we finally returned, it was gone.
      Man, now I’m all melancholic about it.

      • My parents sold my Castle Grayskull because they thought I didn’t like but in fact I was content leaving it closed and keeping it nice. (A toy collector even as a toddler!) But alas, I was four and couldn’t articulate this to my folks, who advertised it in the newspaper classifieds. And I watched in horror as Grayskull left.

        • that is pretty bad that they didn’t even have the heart to sell it at a yard sale. the impersonal, cold classifieds!

          • Heh yeah, Pizza… and you were THERE when a different Castle Grayskull came back home. And ironically, it’s still there at the parent’s house and now they know better than to even touch the replacement.

  10. If I had all the pizza points in the world, I would get everything in that catalog and carry it around in that “book bag” that looks more like a shopping bag from a non-existant Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles store.

  11. When I was delivering pizza it was not uncommon to see turtles in the road. I would, if I could, stop (F*ing customers can wait in line for their pizza, wildlife is important!), and return them to a sufficiently wooded area.

    One time I was driving down a rathe busy road when I saw a turtle crawling across the road. I straddled it but didn’t stop in time, so I tookthe turnaround and then the turnaround again (it was a divided highway) to go rescue it, all the while asking whatever diety protects turtles to let it survive until I got there.

    It didnt. By the time I got back it was squished. Blood and guts squished out of the holes in the shell and there was about an eighth of it torn off and lying a few feet away.

    I cried all the way back to the store.

  12. Sadly, never kept the pizza points. A damn shame, it’s I had roughly 50 figures. Correction: I still have everything, I simply refuse to get rid of my toys.

    I collect Coke Points now, had enough for several DVDs and a subscription to Wired.

  13. Childhood events for me are still so recent that they has yet to reach the point of nostalgic retrospect amusement. Instead, I will attempt to amuse you by telling the tale of eating toys.

    I have never been one to turn down a dare. I have had peanuts stuck in my nose because of dares. When I was ten, my friend told me that beads and earplugs were the same thing and dared me to put one in my ear. Her dad had to get it out with a pair of tongs.
    But this particular incident took place mere months ago.
    My family was visiting some friends whose son had just acquired a box of HappyMais.
    He sat in the corner of the sofa, playing. I was bored by the conversation of my parents and approached the kid. “Hey”, I said. “Can I watch?”
    He looked at me, frowned, and nodded slowly. He then returned to his work: he was in the middle of producing a slightly deformed crocodile.
    “How old are you, anyway?”
    “Eight. I turn nine soon.”
    “Ah.”
    We sat in silence for a while.
    “You’re smelly,” I said, breaking the silence.
    “You smell like farts.”
    “Well, you EAT farts.”
    Suddenly, he looked at me with a weird look on his face. He shot at quick look at his parents, who were deeply engrossed in conversation. Reassured that he was not currently under adult supervision, he scooped a piece of HappyMais into his mouth and proceeded to chew it. It made a sound much like that a piece of Haloumi cheese makes when subjected to mastication.
    I raised the only eyebrow I am capable of raising, the one on the right side of my face (as opposed to the one on the right side of my butt, obviously. I can’t raise that one separately from the left). “Did you just eat that?”
    He grinned and answered affirmatively. Then he said the magic words: “I dare you.”
    I should mention that HappyMais looks an awful lot like styrofoam.
    “No. Nonono. Not going to do it.”
    “What, are you scared?”
    “No, but I’m not stupid like you, either. Stupid.”
    “It tastes like popcorn! Come on!” He threw it in the air, caught it with his mouth, and chewed loudly. Squeak squeak squeak. “You’re just scared. Sissy.”
    I had probably eaten worse things in my life, even if this was indeed Styrofoam-like. To tell you the truth, Styrofoam isn’t all that bad, anyway.

    I grabbed the box from the table and turned it in my hands, scanning the labels. “Non-toxic”.

  14. Well, Pizza, you touched on a raw nerve by mentioning dog poop. I have a four-pound Yorkie-poo, which is an overpriced euphemism for mutt. This dog has never learned to poop outside. Ever! I’ve owned a lot of dogs and every one of them knew to do their business outside. I used to think he was retarded. Maybe he was the dumbest dog that has ever lived. Then my wife taught him all sorts of neato tricks like high-fiving and go-to-your-spot (useful for dinner or when someone knocks on the door). It occurred to me that the dog was not only not stupid, he was brilliant. And rebellious. He was pooping in the house out of pure spite. If you take him out, he will take a wiss and then outlast you. He won’t poop inside the second you bring him in either. He waits. He watches. The instant you stop paying attention to him, he acts like he’s going about his business and roaming the house. He’ll give a courtesy chew on a toy. Once he’s certain you’ve lost interest in his actions and your attention is elsewhere, it’s Ninja-Poop time. The little bastard sneaks off into a secluded spot in the house and unleashes the poo. Then he sneaks back to wherever you are like nothing happened and does exactly what he was doing when he left. Most of the time, I never even realize he left. And people wonder why he answers to the name “Asshole.”

  15. I remember selling candy bars every year as a fund raiser for the private Catholic school I attended. When they gave you your first box, they also gave you a prize catalog. Now, every year that I did this, I had a dream of getting the big prizes(a basketball hoop, a Game Boy[even though I already had one], a stereo or a 13 inch color tv). To top it off, there was also an additional prize for the top 3 sellers in the school. Considering, we averaged between 12-14 kids per class(k-8), this was something anybody had a chance at.

    We lived in Westchester County(NY), and my dad owned and operated a auto garage down on W.53rd St. in Manhattan. With the location of the garage and the many people my dad knew and associated with, I thought I could sell 100 boxes. So I would always send a box or 2 to work with my dad, and he would have no problem selling candy bars for one of “his boys”.

    Now the first 3-4 boxes weren’t really a problem for my dad to sell, and I could usually sell a box walking door to door in my neighborhood. So we’re looking at around 5 boxes(with 30 bars per box). After you sell a box you bring in the envelope with the money and they’d give you another box or 2 to take home and try to sell. It always seemed like I was a forerunner for the top prize during the first week. I regularly sold 2-3 boxes in the first week alone. Then, out of nowhere, some first or second grader would be in the lead after week 2 with total sales over 10 b0xes. What the Hell!!

    Needless to say, but I never got any of the top prizes. I remember for years I always got a giant sticky hand as my prize(seriously), for the 4-6 boxes I sold every year. Finally by eighth grade, I sold 1 measly box, kept the cash and told the people running the “fund raiser” that they must ahve misplaced it, because I surely handed it in. After 8 years of selling their candy they called my parents and I told them the same thing. I feel it was justified because, I sold at least 100 dollars worth of candy every year, and I always ended up with a 50 cent sticky hand as my prize for all my hard work.

  16. I vaguely remember clipping pizza points and keeping them in some sort of plastic trash can – maybe a canister of the retromutagen or something. But I never cashed them in, and for that, I am ashamed. Also, one time brought home several boxes of World’s Finest Chocolate fund raiser candy, and then we moved, so I changed schools and ate it all. Shady, sure, but if you ever tasted it, you know it was a shrewd business move.

  17. Ah, Pizza Points. I think I caught on to that scam as a kid and inherently knew my no-fun parents would never pay for any of that stuff regardless. I do remember how the Turtles packages had the vital stats for each turtle on the back–stuff like favorite weapon, food, etc. I remember making my brothers memorize everything on the backs of the packages so I could quiz them on their turtle-knowlegde. I’m pretty sure I’m responsible for them graduating thanks to my tutelage.

    As far as selling candy, I remember a similar story with World’s Finest Chocolate. I was in maybe the second grade and we lived at the top of a big mountain/hill thing with a cul-de-sac at the top and then a long walk down to the bottom past another handful of houses. I went around to all the houses at the cul-de-sac but my parents told me I had to go down the mountain as well. The problem with this was that going down the mountain took at least an hour. Walking back up in the summer heat was easily 2-3 hours and on the way back I was so hot and tired and pissed off that I decided what I needed was a chocolate bar. I think I ate multiple bars and somehow didn’t grasp the fact that my dad would figure this out when I had less money than I should for the number of bars left in the box. Let’s just say I got seriously reamed out for that one and had to pay for it with multiple weeks of allowance (those bars were like $1 each and in the grade school days of 50 cent allowances it could take a while to repay a multiple-candy bar debt).

    Also your TABULATOR says BOOBS.

  18. I don’t live in America. So there never were pizza points. There were Ninja Turtles but my parents never bought me ’this violent stuff’ and I could only watch the TV series at my friend’s place which I did as often as possible. I’ll have to share something else.

    The most ‘special’ present I ever got was from my Dad.
    When I was small my parents loved to spend their vacations by driving through Sweden with their Hippie-Volkswagen van. A green one, with Snoopy and Charlie Brown painted over the rusted spots on the doors. My father just started to earn some money and he bought himself a video camera, therefore he filmed pretty much everything. At each new spot I had to tell the camera where we were. I was four or five, I neither cared much for places, nor for videos and I usually was close to crying every time I had to say something to that stupid thing. By then I realized that my Dad was filming a lot, but wasn’t aware that my father taped my most embarrassing moments to conserve them for all eternity.

    To my 19th birthday he had already digitalized all video tapes and my present consisted of some selected scenes. First of all they made me realize, I was an awfully talkative kid. Not in a good way though.
    This wasn’t the worst. My father had filmed my first attempt to use a Swedish outhouse/earth closet when we were on a hike. You don’t see much beside me telling proudly that I will go all on my own but some minutes later you can clearly hear me crying out that I peed over my suspenders..

    Thanks Dad, for a present that made it possible for me to share this experience with the family and my friends.

    I still hate cameras. And I lost the DVD. Somehow.

  19. For this year’s annual viewing of bad Christmas movies, we watched a lot of dreck, including the Hulk Hogan/Mila Kunis vehicle SANTA WITH MUSCLES. But by far the worst/best of the lot was the live-action TMNT special WE WISH YOU A TURTLE CHRISTMAS (1995).

    It starts with this monstrosity

    and just gets worse/better from there.

  20. I am largely responsible for the town I grew up in being able to buy Ninja Turtle toys at all. It is a fairly small town with only one department store (at the time none of the near by towns had one) and my Mother ran the toy department there and made the decisions for just about every toy they carried. My Mom would use me to decide whether or not to carry a toy line, figuring if I was into it other kids were as well and this model work pretty successfully.

    When the Turtles came out my Mom was very much against them, because she did not like the word “Mutant” (apparently it was a nasty insult when she was in school.) My friends were all talking about the Turtles so of course I wanted in as well. We had several fights about them before I finally negotiated into my being able to rent one of their videos one time. I of course loved them and after watching with me and realizing how different they were then what she was thinking she changed her mind and ordered them for the store the next day. They ended up being her best selling item that year. If I had not fought so hard to see them most of the kids in my town would not have been able to get the toys for a quite a while. I think they owe me.

  21. YOU GIVE ME DIS CRRAPPPPPPP!!!!

  22. Of course I’m too late, but that IS totally tubular. I guarded a Turtle movie set, but I don’t remember the number. Afraid I was working 100+ hour weeks instead of watching cool movies.

  23. I just found your blog through Google while looking up if you could still redeem pizza points. It seems as though I’m 20 years too late. 74 pizza points wasted. Thanks for sharing your story and all the comments. They brought back great memories.

  24. His turtle tabulator might say BOOBS, but mine says ‘01134’. Upside down of course. This little baby brings me back to the days that mattered. Thank You Surfing Pizza.

  25. wow! what a wonderful story! those were the days.. i too have a turtle tale to tell from my childhood. it was a warm summer day back in 91′. i was all of 5 years old and my love for the turtles could not be measured. also hard to measure was how many turtles i had managed to convince my entire family to buy for me every birthday and christmas. i think i had about 40 or 50 of them at this point which would be considered a lot coming from a single parent household on a tight budget. youd think that having all these turtle toys should be enough to keep a 5 year old kid happy… but i apparently i was hungry for more. not for more toys but more excitement from the toys i had. how was i going to achieve this you ask? well let me lay out my brilliant plan for you… i was going to bring my toys to life! and i was going to do so by dumping them all down into the sewer where they would then morph into real live mutants! and i would get all the credit for bringing them to life.. wow my mom was mad, i didnt get any more turtles for months(which seemed like years) well im 26 now and thanks to ebay im going to build a mass collection

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