Purchased Seamonkeys from thrift store. Eager children watched me treat the water in the natural looking habitat with "magic formula".
Wait 24 hours. Add eggs.
(Below Image: Magical Seamonkey habitat of infinite potential and wonderment)
"Daddy, put the eggs in!"
Pour packet of magical dirt into habitat.
Wait 2 days. Longer if not kept warm and near natural sunlight.
Nothing. Water is dirty.
Success. Specks of dirt are swimming around apparently under own volition. Using included magnification device reveals slightly larger self-propelled specks of dirt.
"I can't see anything! He's blocking me! I want the noculars!"
DAY 5. EASTER.
Children running through the house sporting new bunny ears.
Suddenly, there is a sound, as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced.
"Daddy, your egg water broke!"
When I was young, my favorite cat died, hit by a car. I used the money I was saving to get him neutered to buy an Atari game instead. It was some complicated high-concept game with its own calculator-like controller. You zoomed through a horrifically primitive approximation of deep space in hopes of finding white squares to shoot. It was unplayable.
The loss of Seamonkeys felt similar to the moment I knew the Atari game was wretched crap.