An adult looks at a child today playing with their favourite toy and scoffs. The toys today aren’t made like they were when he was a child. The toys today aren’t as good as when he was a kid.
The man sees the child twist his toy until it breaks. His father, in sympathy, fixes the toy and returns it to the child. He watches proudly, his child playing with the toy he fixed. Proud he could bring such joy to his kid.
But, once again, the child twists and bends the toy until it breaks. In an act of sympathy, the father again fixes the toy and returns it to the child.
And again, the child breaks it. Annoyed, the father buys his kid a new toy and tells him to be careful with it.
This process repeats, until the father has had enough. Annoyed that toys when he was a child lasted longer. He starts being protective of these toys, giving cheap meaningless toys to the child that can be easily bought. The child recognizes this, and becomes angry. His father betraying his trust, giving him useless toys.
The child found his dad keeping all these wonderful toys all to himself, the child snaps. In selfish anger he breaks every toy he saw before him.
You’re like this child. You’ve broken toys so many times, that daddy no longer gave you new ones. He kept them hidden, and gave you scraps. Blasters and freight trains were all you were allowed, things that could not seemingly be broken and yet you still managed to break them.
You went out searching for new toys, and found ones your dad had made, but they aren’t quite what you were expecting. While you had your Freeman blasters and such, your dad kept his own toys away from you, hidden.
So much was left hidden, that you had to go search. Search to see if they were as breakable as all your other ones, or if they were cheap meaningless trinkets.
But in all your searching, you’ve never found a toy that lasts. A toy that fits your expectations.
I’ve watched you search, and wondered if you ever looked deep in that toy chest, deep in those toy boxes. Looked into the darkest pits to find a toy that won’t break.
You see, I like playing with toys too. I like twisting and bending things, to see if they break. I once started with trinkets, just like that child.
Just. Like. You.
Eventually, I found toys that last. I went into those dark corners of the toy box, the dark alleys where daddy wouldn’t let you go because the toys were dangerous.
It turned me into what I am now, an unbreakable toy. I’ve watched masters play with me, and I’ve been the master.
I’ve bent toys and broke them, but I found joy in that.
So, come. Join me in my toy box.
Let’s see who breaks first.
The child?
Or the monster.