When I was a child I did something really, really, really stupid. No, I'm not talking about the time I dug a six foot deep hole in the side yard just to throw the mud at the neighbor's house, only to have my mother strip me down to my skivvies and hose me down in the front yard as the girl I liked walked by. Or the time I tried to be a whirling dervish and spun around in a circle until I passed out, breaking a couple of fingers. No, I did one thing far, far stupider than any of that. I destroyed one of the most valuable action figures to ever be made.
I know that I destroyed much of the value when I took it out of the packaging, but that's besides the point. I was a kid that wanted to play with shit, not some lame-o trying to put myself through college with an investment. Hell, if you gave me the action figure again I'd tear it open and shoot the rocket at the back of my boss's head right here in the office with no second thoughts. But just because I played with it doesn't mean that I didn't respect the Fett. On the contrary, I saw how all of my friend's faces would light up when they saw that I had the coveted action figure. It was the most valuable thing in thing in the world to me at that young age.
So that's how I destroyed the greatest action figure in the history of toys. And it's also why I got a Boba Fett tattoo, ain't nobody going to be melting the feet off of this Fett. Unless I come into contact with a super hot furnace and meet the same fate, but that seems highly unlikely. Knock on wood.