Somewhere. Sometime. Recently. On someone's blog. I saw an image that instantly transported me back to my childhood. Then when I tried to find it again for this post, I couldn't. So I finally settled for the above reasonable facsimile.
As a child, I could never resist the lure of cheap novelties. Especially cheap, creepy novelties. One of my favourites was my skeleton-hand bank. A small metal bank. Black and somewhat foreboding. In the shape of a coffin resting on its back. Similar to the bank in the photo. Although I'm certain mine had a metal lid rather than fabric. But no matter. The concept was identical.
Once activated, the cover slowly rose to reveal an eerie skeleton's hand inching its way out of the coffin to grab the coin that had been placed, conveniently, on the target, and pull it back. Back into the hidden depths of its eternal resting place. Never to be seen again. I loved that bank. I amassed a fortune with it. Or at least as many coins as I could persuade my parents and other assorted relatives to part with. I never tired of it. Coin after coin. Again and again. The hand emerged and then retreated. Emerged and retreated.
It's unlikely that my parents derived quite the same level of enjoyment from the skeleton bank as I did. Perhaps that's the reason it disappeared one day. Never to be seen again. Likely to the same location as my hand buzzer and my whoopee cushion.
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