Invasion of the Monster Women

The Monster Women, as far as I can tell, exist only as a series of kitschy rubber figurines, salt-and-pepper shakers and lunchbox adornments. (I'm the proud owner of each of these items.) The toys look like they were designed to commemorate a 1950s sci-fi B movie — very cheap and cheesy-looking. The lunchbox bears scenes from the "movie," which would have been the kind with spaceships dangling from visible wires, and there's a little rubber dollie for each of the five characters. They are, in the order on which they sit atop my computer monitor:

• Cobra Woman, who has the torso of a buxom babe in a red tube top but the lower body of a serpent, and a hood-like headgear thingie shaped like a snake's head
• Lizard Woman, with the torso of a buxom babe in a pink halter top, the body of a lizard and red wing-like head appendages
• Spider Woman, with the torso of a buxom babe in a green bustier, the body of an arachnid (suitably hairy with dust) and hair that changes from blonde to black as it flows down her back; she wears a yellow necklace
• Centaur-pede Woman, with the torso of a buxom babe in a green sports bra, the body of a centipede and red stinger-horns on her head; she wears a red necklace
• my personal heroine Bat Woman (a grad-school friend used to refer to me as Batchick), the only upright Monster Woman, who has the body of a buxom babe in a pink strapless swimsuit with yellow belt, spreading black bat wings, enormous three-toed feet and a bat-head helmet; she wears a green thing at her throat, or maybe it's just bat flews