Do you ever find something so absurd, so very specific, that you know, even before you get to use it: This will be the hit of the party? That was my Adams Pluck ‘Em Puzzle. Unearthed in a box at a flea market, alongside a flask and some Elvis coasters. Tiny plastic bust of a lady. Shiny metal balls. Weird? Sure. Intriguing? Definitely.
I turned it over, looked at the stamp — “Fairylite, Made in England.” “Good luck figuring that one out,” the guy selling it smirked.
It’s a plastic torso with two chrome balls swinging in… shall we say, “suggestive” places. The goal? Put the ball bearings back on or off. Sounds easy. It’s not.
Now picture: You’re in a 1960s bar. Jukebox hum, smoke in the air, and someone slaps this puzzle down on the counter. All of a sudden, it’s not drinks; this is a competition. People watching. Joking. Acting as if they have the answer. They don’t.