So I bought this kid this thing
Some kinda robot
Built-in battery,
box of accessories,
whole buncha shit.

Said “Ages 8 and Over”
so I gave it 
to this kid who just turned eight–
for his birthday

Cost two hundred bucks,
but the kid liked it
I enjoyed watching him 
and his little robot

He named it J-Bob
Played with that thing all day
The whole family
was amazed at the tricks he taught
that thing

So, I come back to visit this week
Don’t see that two-hundred dollar robot nowhere
Asked the kid, “Hey. Where’s J-Bob?”
Kid says, “Who’s J-Bob?”
I says, “That robot thing I bought you for your birthday.”
Kid says, “I think he’s in a box somewhere.”

So the kid’s mother starts telling me all 
about this other thing the kid wants
Some kind of rhythm-drum machine thing
“His birthday is coming up, you know,”
she has the nerve to say.

So I eat a big dinner that night, lots of chicken wings,
and I buy this special box, you know,
like you would put a small cake in.
Next morning I take a massive shit
Right into the box.
Seal that fucker tight with Scotch tape
and wrap it in shiny paper

Part of me says I’m taking it too far,
but the other part of me says fuck it
I ain’t decided for sure what to do just yet,
but I need to hurry 

Looks like my gift is next. His mom, that bitch,
is holding it in her hand with a big stupid grin on her big stupid face
She thinks it’s some toy drum thing
–I looked it up. Damn thing costs three hundred dollars–
I don’t know if I feel bad or not,
and I ain’t sure what’s in that box myself, 
but I just realized
I got a grin on my face, too