Bob (A Fictitous Bob Story)

His heart was pounding as he mentally reviewed what he was about to do. Jump the fence, pick the flower. Jump the fence, pick the flower. His name was Bob and he was about to jump the fence and pick the flower. He swung his arms back and forth as if that motion would somehow carry him and his girth over the fence. With a helpful growl he ran forward and jumped. His belly landed on the fence post and he stopped. He grunted. He swung. He didn't move. He started sweating. He grunted some more. His feet started kicking around on the fence trying to get a hold, but he never found one. Instead, he leaned too far forward and flipped over the fence. Thud. His body smacked the ground and the breath left his body. He lay there wheezing for a few minutes before he had the strength to move. He stood up and cautiously approached the old woman's garden. He tip toed and silently (or as silently as you can be at his weight) crept up to the unwary, unsuspecting flower. He grabbed it and yanked. It didn't budge. He started muttering at the flower. He pulled it again. It still didn't budge. He spat on his hands, gripped the flower with both hands, and pulled with all his power. Veins starting poking out, but to no avail, the flower wouldn't move. He let go and started gasping and wheezing. Slam! Oh no! Someone just came out of the house! He quickly (or as quickly as he could at his weight, which was actually surprisingly quick) ran for cover behind a bush. He spotted the perpetrator. It was the old woman's grand son, a little boy of eight. He sauntered into the garden and spotted a beautiful flower in full bloom. He giggled and ran up to it. He stooped and plucked the flower from the earth. Bob was screaming on the inside. Then he was screaming vocally. He ran back into the garden and tackled the little boy. He stole the flower and then ran through the gate in the fence and headed back to his house. It was in the headlines the next day, Sasquatch Steals Smelly Flower (the kid obviously didn't see Bob before he tackled him, but only saw a large, fleeing thing. He naturally assumed it was Bigfoot). Bob didn't see it though, he was too busy planning what he would say to the woman the flower was intended for. Finally, he felt he had the right words. He walked down the street going over the words in his mind. He approached the door and knocked. She opened the door. Bob's jaw dropped. She was even more gorgeous than he remembered. She smiled. She even had more teeth than he remembered. OH! And she even shaved her moustache! He stammered through what he wanted to say. "Please...t-take t-this...flower...cuz I...l-love...yew." There. He had said it. He hadn't even forgotten any words. She looked at the newspaper she was holding. She looked at the flower. She look at Bob. "Bobby Bob Bobito! Did yew steal this flo'er?!" she yelled. He gulped. She had never used his full name before. He stammered, "Uh..Uh. No! I...borrowed it!" "Bobby Bob, I don't want to see yew ag'in!" "B-But...Georgina," he replied "I love yew!" She slammed the door. All that hard work, gone. She didn't even like the flower. Oh, well, that's Valentine's day for you.

Because You Want To Read Me! (A Bob Story)

Once upon a time there was a wicked English Major who thought it would be funny to copyright the term ‘once upon a time’. At the time of this writing he has made $27538291823 just because people generally start out their stories with once upon a time…

This is the story of the wicked English Major versus Bob. Bob is a rather unintelligent man who happens to like cliché’s solely because he can’t understand anything but cliché. The English Major has made $2712345754 off of Bob alone. But Bob has vowed revenge.

Enlisting the help of the wicked stepsisters (who actually only exists in fairy tales) he set about to ruin the English Major’s life. First, it was a midnight raid into the house of the English Major.

The wicked stepsisters with their magical powers (they inherited them from their long deceased mother. The wicked Witch of Svendor) changed the word ‘isn’t’ into ‘ain’t’ in every single one of the English Major’s finals papers. Bob laughed gleefully. And they escaped into the night. The English Major was furious, but what could he do? All he could do was rake in more money every time the phrase ‘once upon a time’ was used.

The English Major was plotting his revenge.

He hacked into Bob’s computer files and accessed his blog. He then corrected all the misspelled words and added the correct punctuation as he saw fit. The English Major laughed maniacally. Bob, on the other hand, appreciated it greatly. Thus, another attempt by the English Major to ruin Bob’s life, was thwarted.

That night, Bob and the stepsisters decided it was time for another midnight raid into the English Major’s house. So they set off through the woods and over the river. Eventually they got to his house whereupon they noticed for the first time that the English Major’s house was made of candy and gingerbread. Bob, being the simpleton he was, did not find this in the least bit suspicious. After all, it was slightly clichéd, and cliché’s were his forte.

Bob and his friends were in for a shock: unlike before, the English Major was actually home this time! They could still cause mayhem but they would have to be quiet and sneak past his bedroom. So they did. Or, at least, they tried.

But the English Major was a light sleeper. At the first sound they made he was awake. He started mumbling and then boldly spoke up, “Who’s there?”

Bob made no sound.

“Bob, is that you?”

Bob thought quickly. What was he to do? What was he to do?? He decided to speak up and fool the English Major.

“Um, uh, no, this isn’t Bob. I, uh, actually don’t know a Bob. I’m not even a person. I’m sort of a disembodied, ghoulish voice that happens to haunt, um, all English Majors. Don’t speak, for I could correct your grammar. I’d do it too. You can’t stop me! Now, uh, go to sleep!”

So he went to sleep.

Bob and company then set out to further ruin the life of the English Major by erasing the dot’s of the ‘i’s and erasing the crossing’s of the ‘t’s. Bob left out, and the house fell silent. The next morning the English Major was furious! He started hitting walls and overthrowing tables and cursing the name of Bob. He was generally throwing a bit of a tantrum. But he wasn’t exactly sure how to get back at Bob. Bob didn’t care if the English Major corrected his Blog. He couldn’t affect him in any way when it came to grammar.

So he consulted a witch. The evil, the terrifyingly, horribly, revolting, disfigured witch by the name of Priscilla. He explained about Bob and his love of cliché’s and asked how he could get back at him. The witch had an idea. She explained it to the English Major. He liked it.

Her idea was to bring to life the big, bad wolf of fairytale fame and let him eat Bob. She brought the wolf to life and explained to the wolf what he was to do. Well, the wolf was only that: a wolf. He didn’t understand commands, nor did he understand the differences between certain people. So he ate the witch and the English Major. And then he ate Bob when Bob brought the stepsisters home. And he also ate the stepsisters.

So the wolf had a happy ending and everyone else died. And the moral of this story is that one’s happy ending may be someone else’s tragic life’s end. For every boy who gets the girl, there is still the other boy or girl who wishes they were that boy or girl.

But at least the wolf is happy.