Bob, For No Good Reason

Sunday, bloody Sunday

This is a story about a guy named Bob. Most would say that Bob is an ordinary guy. He's so ordinary its rather eccentric. I think what stood out most to me was his grungy manner. His sandy brown hair sticking out the bottom of his 'trucker' styled baseball cap. His slacker jeans with the unintended tears & stains in them. Maybe its his thin barely a beard facial hair. Or maybe his dry humor shirt slogan that read, 'Born Hard', that first caught my eye. Either way this story is all about Bob, Bob & his shenanigans.

The first time I encountered Bob I was on my way inside the mall, when I see what I could only describe as a common parking dispute. I see Bob, in his classic piece of crap Chevy Nova honking violently at a guy, who I assumed had taken his parking spot. Some jerk in a brand new BMW, you know the kind of preppy tool everyone wants to kick in the nads, yeah well one of those guys. I walk past them attempting to avoid any confrontation, but little did I know, destiny or some other kinda of mystical crap was about to turn everything I knew my world to be, upside down. Well, anyway as I was saying, it all started over this parking space. Most any normal person would have just driven away and found another spot. But not Bob, nope not Bob. He jumps out of his car with a samurai sword and proceeds to castrate the poor selfish bastard in plain sight of everyone in the parking lot. All the blood all over that beautiful BMW it was horrific. The shredded shards of testicle all over the lot, the pools of ball blood oozing down the pavement, the loud shrieking sounds that preppy sissy kept wailing out like a huge whale harpooned in the vagina. The sick smirk on Bob's face, the sadistic look of joy in his eyes. The poor little kid walking by with his mom from jamboree class, his scared, timid little voice telling his mother, "Mommy that man's pee pee is hurt". It all still haunts me to this day. The traumatic sight of a rich boy Wang gently flying in the air whisking past my cheek like a geisha girls torn under garment being ripped off & flung across the room by a crude violent & horny neanderthal, caused me to black out or at the very least, suppress the events that happened next. I do recall regaining consciousness later that evening in a crummy dinner. Crazy as it may be, sitting across from, non other than Bob himself. Still soaked in aristocratic loins as he ate a sloppy Joe sandwich. I found myself in a non meat eating mood for obvious reasons, so I was eating a tuna melt. I bet your thinking that tuna is meat. But I never really felt that way about it. I mean meat are animals that technically could be pets. As in you could pet them. Who the hell pets a damn fish. If i had the desire to I could pet a cow or a lamb, I could keep it as a pet if I wanted cause they are that type of animal. I mean its not like fish have feelings right? Anyway there I was eating what I must admit was an amazing tuna melt next to Bob. There Bob was drenched in blood & confetti sized specks of dick & balls laughing the most disturbingly sinister kind of giggle as he ate the sloppy-ist sloppy Joe ever. As we sat there, mostly in silence I garnished the nerve to ask Bob 'why'? He replied with a phrase that sent chills up my taint like nothing ever before but that I've come to hear him utter more & more ever since. In a soft & calm but terribly menacing tone he spoke: " eh, for no good reason".
The End