The Mausoleum of Madness, Part II!
Welcome to Dinosaur Dracula’s MAUSOLEUM OF MADNESS, PART II! This is a multipage feature. Page links are are at the bottom, or you can visit the starting page over here. Enjoy your stay at the Mausoleum, and remember not to touch anything, especially if it glows.
#45: Dunkin’ Munchkins Box! (Early ‘90s)
Yesterday afternoon, I snagged one of the new Dunkin’ Spider Donut Munchkin Buckets, resplendent in black and purple. In the Great Halloween Bucket Wars of 2025, it may be the champ.
But this is hardly the first time the chain positioned Munchkins as Good October Eatin’. Take this adorable cardboard lunchbox, which I’m conservatively estimating as being from the early ‘90s, though it’s very possibly older.
Large enough to house 45 Munchkins, the idea was that kids could draw jack-o’-lantern faces right over the pumpkin graphics. (The reverse side had a clear version, so they wouldn’t need to work around the text.)
And, hell, I remember Munchkins being a Halloween thing even before that. When me and the neighborhood kids went trick-or-treating, it was customary for our mothers to gather, sit on someone’s porch, and scarf down Munchkins and coffee. It was ostensibly to watch over us, even if all they really kept track of were donut holes and packets of Equal.
I thought they invented the tradition out of thin air, but now that I see how far back the official Halloween/Munchkins connection goes, maybe they were just slaves to the chain’s marketing. I can relate.
#44: Die-cut Decorations! (1960s – 1990s)
Here’s an amazing pile of die-cut Halloween decorations, from Beistle and beyond, dating back as far as the ‘60s. Some may be even older, but most are from the ‘80s, when I was in elementary school.
Back then, October wasn’t October without a bunch of these cardboard freaks lining the windows in class. I don’t know who decided that they HAD to be on every classroom window during the Halloween season, but I thank them for sneaking it into the curriculum.
We had a bunch at home, too. Everyone did. Next to cotton spider webs, they were perhaps the most ubiquitous of all Halloween decorations. A cheap and easy way to broadcast that you were down with the devil.
When I look at these, I instantly smell that weird nostalgic combo of dusty books and sour milk. I can’t believe I mean that as a compliment, but I do. It’s partially because that’s how school smelled in the ‘80s, and partially because that’s how decades-old cardboard smells in 2025.
Bonus points: You may remember the green skull and werewolf on the lower-left from the pharmacy scene in Halloween 4.
#43: PAAS Vampire Makeup Kit! (1984)
I might be the only person who cares about this, but that’s okay – I care enough about it for all of us.
As mentioned earlier in this feature, PAAS used to do almost as much for Halloween as they still do for Easter. While they focus on dyeing eggs during springtime, October was all about dyeing our faces.
This Vampire Makeup Kit was just one in a series of similar sets, each containing face paint and a couple of cheap accessories. Given that I was Dracula for Halloween in kindergarten – right around the time this kit was in stores – the nostalgia hits hard.
(What a time that was. Almost every boy in class was also Dracula, and at the big Halloween soiree with our parents present, we just stood in a circle chewing blood capsules and letting the stained saliva dribble out.)
My favorite part is the bonus bat – literally a piece of cardboard that you had to punch off the back of the box, and then just like… oddly hold? “Hi, I’m a vampire, I tote a lil’ bat around.” Incredible!
#42: Telco Pumpkin Ghost! (Late ‘80s)
Look, I was planning to give y’all a break from my Telco nonsense, but life intervened. Late last night, a trio of their Halloween Motionettes popped up on Facebook Marketplace, and the prices were absurd. Three different, boxed, for $50.
Now, the two you can’t see in that photo – the Witch and the Phantom of the Opera – had considerable wear and were missing accessories. But it didn’t matter, because all I was after was THAT PUMPKIN GUY. Twenty-four inches tall, animated, glowing, sexy, and pretty damn tough to find.
On eBay, you’d pay $150-$200 for that thing, easy. I know, because I already did that. Yeah, this was a duplicate of the one I already have, but if there was ever a Telco Motionette worth building an army with, it’s Nightgown Jack-O.
I was supposed to meet the seller at 11:30 this morning. Instead, I woke up to a somewhat panicked message, insisting that I get there earlier because other people were interested.
I can’t fault the seller for that one. He knew that I had a hike ahead of me, and the other buyers probably lived five minutes away. I told him I’d leave right away, and did – on little sleep, with no coffee, and while wearing a t-shirt covered in cat hair.
The drive took almost an hour, but I spent it blasting the Halloween Jukebox, and enjoying the 50-degree morning chill.
After I climbed the five steps leading to his door and forked over the cash, he asked if I needed help bringing them to the car. I assured him that I did not, stacked the three Motionette boxes length-wise, picked them up, turned around, and promptly tripped over a potted plant.
As I gathered the boxes, now scattered around his property like fallen leaves, I looked back to see the front door closing, with a specific velocity that clearly said, “I saw that, but I ain’t copping to seeing it.”
Honestly, though? Given the choice between him pretending not to notice, and me needing to actually discuss what had happened, I’m taking the former 10 times out of 10. So long forever, guy from Facebook Marketplace.
Anyway, I’m extremely happy with my purchase. To me, this specific Motionette – this insane pumpkin-headed choir singer who for some reason carries a plastic cat – screams “Halloween in the late ‘80s” in ways that few other things do.
#41: Frank ‘n Stuff Coupon! (1984)
It isn’t easy being a collector of Hormel Frank ‘n Stuff memorabilia. Charmed as I am by those monster-themed hot dogs from the ‘80s, there just isn’t much out there!
That’s why I was so tickled to find this old coupon. The actual product shot is smaller than my pinkie nail, but in a dead market, I’ll take whatever I can. You could write “FRANK ‘N STUFF” on a Post-It, and I’d probably buy it.
Filled with chili or cheese, the frankfurters are mostly remembered for being blazingly, dangerously hot. Seems Hormel did not fully consider the idea that the dawgs might act as beefy kilns, spiking the temp of the hidden filling to something approaching lava.
Still, even those left with permanent Frank ‘n Stuff scars concede that they were delicious, and I’ll never not love the concept of Frankenstein-influenced processed meat.
