so I told her I'd buy another
But so many great toy robots came out
that I never even bothered
I had so many toy robots
I could fill a cargo freighter
Our home a toy robots dumping ground
robots in the refrigerator
The house was really dangerous
toy robots covered every inch
One time I couldn't find the baby
the toy robots fell on him
Robot plastic filled up every roomWe couldn't use the garage
An outside pile of rusty scrap metal parts
was all that was left of my Dodge
One day my wife was nagging
"We need a new washer and dryer!"
But I told her "HEY! You shut up bitch!
I'm listening to TFWire!"
I told her collecting toy robots
like I did demanded sacrifices
I've never seen a guy with assloads of robots
and also nice household appliances
So she kicked me out of my own home
and she made me go away
and from the public library computers
I saw her sell my robots on eBay
The librarian saw me crying
and I explained why I was glum
He said "You must love them toy robots"
But inside I thought-I hate 'em
I tried to go back to her
and extend the olive branches
I was sorry about the refrigerator
and robot baby avalanches
But she'd found another man
who wasn't no toy robots guy
He kind of looked like the librarian and
their clothes were clean and dry
Once I was a man who had it all
though now I don't have shit
I'm mostly mad my robots collection is gone
I really really miss it
3 comments:
This poem makes me sad a little. I ownder if it will ever happen to me. I think I need a new plastic robot to medicate the sorrow my soul now feels.
The solution is, find a wife who indulges your giant robot habit.
Sorry, boys, she's mine.
Shanda thought you were funny, Richard. She said we should be thinking about buying our wives flowers when we're feeling sad. I personally don't understand how buying my wife something would make me feel better than buying myself robots, but I just nodded and pretended I did.
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