It’s that time of year again. We’re about halfway through the longest three months of the year: Christmas. It’s probably about time to think about shopping. Most adults don’t require gifts and fully understand if you get them nothing— realizing that you, too, are an adult with adult responsibilities, so there is no expectation of a gift. That said, there is a subset of awful adults, who still expect that you will provide a gift for their equally awful children. "Oh, well, it’s no big deal," you say, because apparently, you are unable to stand up for yourself when Brenda says "what" and not "if," when asking about you bringing a present for little Madison. In this case, just say "it’s a secret" and then get them something from this list.
Long abandoned by Xmas gifters for requiring an attention span beyond 30 seconds (and for coddling intellectual pursuits), the tried-and-true old chemistry set makes a reappearance this year. Unlike other chemistry sets, this one has little to do with learning and everything to do with fun—well, that’s assuming that you consider "fun" to be "making a series of noxious smells," which covers most kids. They’ll delight in their ability to mix more-or-less safe and benign chemicals together, to make the rankest of house-filling odors. With a book of easy, step-by-step instructions and the cartoon Dr. Odorous leading the way to greater and greater stench, it’s a sure winner for any child whose parents you hate.
A small, plush character somewhat akin to a Furby, but with more face tattoos, Lil’ Squawky is a generic, fur-covered caricature of modern mumble rappers. Once you activate him, the fun never stops— literally. Powered by solar and a mechanism similar to an automatic watch, Lil’ Squawky never needs batteries, nor has the ability to remove them. He spits unintelligible hip-hop phrases over and over, at any given time—but, especially if people are talking nearby.
There is a storied history of dolls that mimic the features of a real baby (or, at least, soil themselves). This dates back to roughly the early 1930s, with the advent of the Dy-Dee and Betsy Wetsy dolls, both of which peed when given fluids (side note: those two dolls were caught up in a bizarre 1936 patent infringement lawsuit in New York, wherein it was ruled that drinking and urination, being "natural movements," could not be patented—I guess New York was capable of making sense at some point in the past, but I digress...). Baby Poop Sluice is a unique doll, appearing very much like a realistic baby, and likewise, has real baby functions. You may feed Baby Poop Sluice any of the brightly colored foods she comes with (refills just $4.99!) and, in a matter of minutes (but, without any forewarning), Baby Poop Sluice lets loose a foul tempest of brown, liquid baby diarrhea. Clean it up quick, kids, or it’ll stain whatever it sits on for more than a couple minutes, including metal and porcelain.
Trying to out-do the infamous 1970s trend of the Pet Rock, Pet Nothing is just that: nothing. It’s an elaborate box filled with shredded paper bedding and other trappings, but contains no pet whatsoever— animate or otherwise. That said, the box encourages you to not throw it away (reuse!), but it is of flimsy construction and quickly breaks down, requiring the purchase of another pet nothing. Once you buy Pet Nothing, you can’t simply have...nothing. A whole line of replacement boxes and box accessories ensure that parents will be buying additional things for their kids to slap on a cheap, cardboard box at $14.95 each, for at least a year.
Like the more well-known Magic 8-BallŪ, the Somewhat Supernatural 7-Ball provides vague answers to yes-or-no questions, but takes forever to do so. In fact, it takes about 45 seconds, during which it plays the opening of "Hooked On A Feeling" (yes, the "ooga-chaka" part...for 45 whole seconds), before finally revealing that the reply is hazy and you must ask again. It’s fun for kids all day! It’s fun for adults for about 20 seconds!!!
Fuzzy slippers feel like a timeless gift, beloved by children and adults alike. Anywhere with chill mornings and cold floors seems like a prime environment for a pair of fuzzy slippers. These slippers come in a variety of fun shapes like lion, hippo, penguin, Stalin and herpes virus. They also talk! Yep, with every step, they say things like "Gee, it’s cold" and "Ow, you’re hurting me!" Every. Step.
A very reasonably priced action figure, who comes with his own van and a comic book which illustrates the wonderful adventures kids can have when they get into cars with strangers. It’s like The Magic School Bus, but with less magic and more long, hard miles of pure adventure, as Mr. Wonderful puts distance between the car and the location where the kids got in. Mr. Wonderful comes with his own, trimmable, scraggly facial hair and two plucky, young children from an affluent suburban neighborhood. Additional accessories are available, such as "tickets to Disneyland" and "magic candy that makes you see cartoons in real life."
A Book Of 1000 Names For Your Butthole Corn chute, chocolate pocket, smashed spider, fart box, meat doughnut, balloon knot, Hershey hatch, bunghole, shit locker, Australian gold mine, wrinkled starfish, mud clam, Mr. Wrinkles, fudge pucker and so forth. Sure to stick in the minds of impressionable youth and truly jazz up their vocabulary. Grandma will love it when she comes to visit and little Dakota asks to be excused from the dinner table to "crunch a lincoln log out [their] brown banana cannon."
I don’t feel that I need to elaborate on this, but turning an already poorly coordinated child into one with wheels in their sneakers is a guaranteed win for you and loss for the parent of your antipathy. Try to hide your amusement, when they tell you about the latest thing Liam has careened into and broken.
So, there you have it—the executive list of gifts to give children of parents you hate.
Happy whatever.
Wombstretcha The Magniflcent is a writer, cook, hot sauce spokesman, chimpanzee debunker and retired rapper from Portland, Oregon. He can be found at Wombstretcha. com, on Twitter as @Wombstretcha503 and on Facebook (and MeWe, the no-jail Facebook) as "Wombstretcha The Magniflcent."
