Bob, For No Good Reason

Holiday Cheer

                        

The holiday season has always held a special part of my heart no matter how old I get. I don't know why? Maybe its the festive music all about? Could it be the slightly more pleasant demeanor most people tend to wear like a exaggerated Mardi Gras costume, carefully crafted as to allow its wearer to masquerade about as a wholesome person instead of the degenerate they inwardly are in reality. Yeah that's why I think I like the holidays. The tendency to parade about as a good christian instead of the usual jerk off seems to overwhelm most people during the holidays, then wear off somewhere around January 1st.  Makes me wonder what kinda effect the holidays would have on Bob? Would he be affected in a good way? Would he be nice somehow & less murderous? I ponder this, I ponder how it might actually be different, even if only during the holidays. What would it be like to spend time with Bob without all the senseless murder? I'm not entirely sure I can imagine it? I definitely don't think I'd be able to recognize him. As I deeply ponder this mystery the door bursts nearly off its hinges as Bob kicks it in with both feet like a crazed donkey!! The door flings open like a swinging old style tavern bar door. There i stand somewhat shaken from my deliberate mental outing far from the murderous outbursts of Bob. His barbaric intrusions barely startle me anymore. So I'm wondering why did Bob burst into my home in such a fashion? He then shouts at me in a rushed & demonstrative tone saying:" C'mon bro we're going killing! This jack ass dented my Chevy & only left a shitty note with his insurance info & phone number on it! But I got his address & we're going killing!" So I guess my hopes that the holidays would somehow calm the savage beast that is Bob's reckless rage & primitive neanderthal mentality is a pipe dream. Yes a dream that got flushed down the toilet like so many bowel movements, discarded like a piece of garbage that you are oh so relieved to be rid of. I reluctantly fade in from my daydream to find myself beside Bob, racing down the street in his shitty Chevy Nova like we are in a dead heap race for 3rd place in a piece of shit race car tournament. We head fiercely down the road like the unstoppable force, just not meant to be yielded in any manner whatsoever. Bob aims for pedestrians as he floors it as fast as his shitty Chevy can go. Almost as if he's playing a video game or some sort of pin ball game or bowling in a car, where the purpose is to run over as many people as possible. I find myself sick to my stomach, nearly vomiting from the carnage. Some things tend to have a heaving effect on my digestive tract, namely the sight of human entrails on the windshield, lodged in between the wipers like a torn scrap of paper rudely ripped from its rightful place In a neatly collaborated notebook. Flailing & flapping in the wind almost like a flag, almost as if proudly displaying the colors of Bob's pirate ship, or some band of marauders that he is the leader of. Yes I can totally imagine Bob as the leader of some insane cult like group of savages! So as I do my best to overlook the gruesome murders I hear Bob laugh a disturbing chuckle as he swerves towards unsuspecting passersby.
I plead with Bob that if he could grant me a wish of my own choosing for Christmas, we would go around & spread holiday cheer instead of just killing people for no good reason for the holiday. At my afore mentioned urging, Bob instantly scuttles off the road in a frenzy skidding & riding his breaks until we come to an ultimate halt, like a comet shooting across the sky so majestically & gracious, then crashing through every object in its path unwaveringly. When we finally stop Bob clasps my shoulder & sinisterly says to me in the most slow, menacing & course tone: "sure, let's spread some holiday cheer". So Bob then speeds away in a hurry. Not knowing where we are headed or to what end, in spite of my better judgment I still find myself in an unusually good mood. Have I finally found the tiny morsel of humanity still clinging to life, deep within Bob? Have I finally unearthed that smidgen of undefiled morality still unprocessed & unadulterated or defiled by the harsh & depraved encroaching world? Well as the possibilities blur through my mind one by one so fast I can barely single out & focus on an individual possibility! Bob then slams his breaks again as this car crosses traffic right infront of us then stops right in front of what appears to be a gay bar. I think oh no, now Bob has never been very open minded but also never really been homophobic. But has always been hostile towards anyone that infringes on his space in any manner of any kind. I cringe & shake like that poor abused pet at the store, hoping sincerely that your a good human, the kind that scratches tirelessly behind the ear & gives plentiful amounts of delicious kibble, but is still visibly terrified that you might be the kind that abuses & starves. The rude jerk then jumps out of his car & proceeds to hurl slurs at us all while kicking & throwing things at Bob's Chevy for no good reason. As I tremble uncontrollably, Bob rolls his window down like he's about to ask for some Grey Poupon. I attempt warning the patrons entering & existing as best I could with my loudest outside speaking voice, but found myself strangely catatonic. The rude jerk continues to berate us & hurl junk at us. Bob then steps out of the car slowly & proceeds to reach into his pocket & remove a handful of skittles & throw them into the air all about & at the people standing outside yelling in a oddly loud & auctioneer sounding voice: " taste the rainbow bitches" . Then Bob gets back into his shitty Chevy. I'm sitting stunned & completely baffled, yet strangely pleased that no one died. I ask Bob why? Why is his kindness so insane & cruel & downright on the verge of being considered a maniac? But before I could muster the words the man then pulls Bob out of the car calling him an inconsiderate jerk. Bob then proceeds castrating & bludgeoning the man with a fierce determination. As he returns to the car I'm once again defeated & depressed. But now with a fed up sense in myself so I ask fervently WHY BOB? What happened to spreading holiday cheer? To which Bob says:" he was cheered up before he died" no Bob no one could be cheered up in such a fashion , I sincerely doubt anyone could be cheerful or in any way pleased before you killed them Bob, so why? Why are you incapable of human decency? To which I tune back in to observe Bob no longer listening to me but driving too fast swerving down the street throwing skittles at pedestrians in a warped 'Bob' attempt at being jovial, yelling: " taste the rainbow bitches, ho ho ho" as he hurls by. Some skittles inadvertently hit me as he flings them about. I ask ever more imperatively, why Bob shouting ever louder & louder. To which he replies: " eh no good reason"

                    Merry Christmas
                     The End