Toys and Turtlenecks

Dear Goblin,

My kid’s driving me nuts! He doesn’t seem to be capable of remembering to put away his toys after he plays with them. I find myself constantly stepping on one of his little racecars, barefoot, while walking to the bathroom in the middle of the night! Why they’re in the hallway, I have no idea, but toys are everywhere. I have even found toys under the sink. Toys in the cupboard, just like in that movie. And once, toys in the toilet! He said “It’s a pool, Daddy!” Help me, how can I fix this problem? I some need 1 year old boy toy ideas that won’t end up in my expensive equipment, if you have ideas to share, you can contact me, as it will be my pleasure to hear about it.
-Bewildered in Texas

I feel your pain. No, that’s wrong. I laugh at your pain. This story amuses this goblin greatly, so from the bottom of my left heart, I thank you for sharing your torment. Truth is, he’s a kid, and kids like toys. Even goblin kids like toys, especially the severed pixie heads, which make the most purplish mess everywhere. Thank Gob I enjoy a disgusting house.
That said, you’re the Dad and that makes you the boss. (Unless, of course, you have a wife, in which case she’s the boss. Trust me, it’s better. Being King’s better if your Queen takes on all the responsibilities and random beheadings.)
Because you’re PRESUMABLY the boss, what you say goes. And if you say toys go, then toys go. I don’t want you to make a huge mistake of yanking these toys out of the hands of your precious son. I don’t want you to yell at him. He’s your son. You shouldn’t yell at him, but instead make fun of his nose. Kids have absurd noses. I don’t know how they breathe out of those tiny nostrils. Then, gently, and very slowly so that he’s watching, gather up all his toys into a large box. Take the box into your kitchen. Plug in the blender. Preferably a Blast-O-Matic 3000. Then while he’s watching, proceed to blend each toy into fine pieces. Continue until finished.
Then laugh. Don’t forget to pat him on the head. He’s your son, after all.
By the way, you can send the box of disintegrated toys to me. They make EXCELLENT smoothies, which your ridiculously tiny stomach is incapable of digesting.

With the sincerest of sincerity, yours untruly, Dear Goblin.

Dear Goblin,

My wife surprised me yesterday when she told me she doesn’t like my clothes. I’ve been wearing turtlenecks for years, mostly black ones. I have a few mock turtlenecks, too. I think they look good on me. Makes me feel a little like a creative person, which I don’t usually feel like. I work as a legal clerk, and I have to wear a suit at my job. So when I get home, I like to feel comfortable and a little cool. When I wear the turtlenecks, I feel younger, and I like to go out for mochas. She says I look silly, like an old man trying to be young. Do you think she’s right?

-Turtley Cool in California

Turtley Cool-

Your wife is so right, that you should fall down on your weak human knees and worship her for the god that she is. But you should also wear turtlenecks. Yes, wearing turtlenecks is just an absurd look for any human. WHY would anyone do that? What have turtles ever done to you? They are kind, peace-loving creatures that make excellent pets. Even so, you should wear them. I say this because I do not like you, Turtley Cool, and I’m offended that you asked me a question. I will be laughing heartily at the thought of you in your turtlenecks, worshiping your wife. You are going to look quite foolish. Please have someone take pictures. I have an album of foolish humans that I like to keep for those cold winter nights, sipping my mud in front of a fireplace, just passing the hours away with chuckles as I pore over my album.

Please, Turtley Cool, be in my album.

With the sincerest of sincerity, yours untruly, Dear Goblin.

[Dear Goblin’s name is not actually Dear Goblin. But for now, you may call him that. Though he prefers some anonymity at present, Dear Goblin would like you to know he is a BARGEVARD University graduate, with a degree in Mangling Pixies. This advice column is merely his hobby. Anyone who follows his advice needs to have his or her brain checked. This is Goblin advice, after all. Don’t tell him I said that. I prefer to have my head attached.]

By J. Parrish Lewis

J. Parrish Lewis was born and raised in Maryland. In his youth there, he and his brother had many adventures in the dogwood forests near his home. His nostalgia for these adventures has strongly influenced his characters, their relationships, and their perspective on the world they inhabit. He moved to California’s coast to earn his degree in communications and now lives with his family in the San Joaquin Valley. Lewis is profoundly deaf and uses American Sign Language to communicate. He enjoys hazelnut coffee, captioned movies, and walking his dog.

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