Boble VI: Jobless, epilogue
Some time later Binaca rushed up to BOB. He had been out in the garden, lost in the hedge maze for several hours.
“Binaca!” he shouted, startled as she rounded a bend. “How’d you find me?”
“This maze is easy,” Binaca replied. “Anyway, the Earth Mother is ready to meet you.”
“About time, silly-willy. Get me out of here.”
Binaca led the way out of the maze, then to the holy van. BOB drove several cars, but one of his favorites was the holy van. It was a VW panel-van, purple paint shining in the sun. Purple-tinted windows blocked all view of the interior, and the VW symbol had been replaced with a chrome Barbie-head mounted within a flared Swastika. The hub caps had been torn off, and BOB had emptied a .38 into the left side of the van during a drunken rage. The bullet holes had never been repaired. One headlight was smashed out (a parking accident, which BOB blamed on Binaca) while the tail lights had been purposely disconnected. Truly, this was the type of vehicle you never cut off.
Binaca drove as BOB was feeling somewhat tired. It took about 45 minutes to get to the Earth Mother’s palace, deep within a forest which neither Binaca nor BOB could find on the maps. They had to get directions from the hippie gas station attendant, whose parting words were “Cool VW. Solid, man!” BOB flicked him off.
The Earth Mother’s guards were waiting – all of them mousy brunettes wearing patchouli, vanilla, and other body oils. Long flowing dresses, long, ratty hair and those frilled hippie shirts seemed to be the uniform.
“May I park your van, sister?” one of the hippie chicks asked Binaca.
“Fuck that, this thing will stink like a ’69 camper. Just point us in the right direction!” BOB shouted from the passenger side.
Once parked, Binaca and BOB were ushered into a waiting room.
“The Earth Mother will be with you shortly.” One of the hippie-chicks said, backing out respectfully.
Once they were sure they were alone, BOB turned to Binaca. “Nice setup here,”
“Not as nice as BOB Heavens.” Binaca replied.
“Where there is classy sausage,” BOB reminded.
A few minutes later, another hippie chick came into the room and politely ushered BOB and Binaca into the Earth Mother’s inner quarters. The hippie chick then backed out and closed the double doors.
The Earth Mother’s quarters were utilitarian. A vast window spanned the length of one wall, showing the peaceful forest outside. A large desk sat in the center of the room, with a telephone and a blotter as well as some toys – nothing spectacular. One wall was covered with Tori Amos, Tribe 8, and Crush posters. There were a number of bands BOB didn’t recognize, but as he drifted closer to the wall he saw a Cake Like poster, amoung others. Binaca recognized a few more and quietly pointed them out. Another wall was filled with the expected “Sisterhood is Powerful” slogans, put together as a collage. Low filing cabinets were placed against the wall opposite the window, along with a leather couch and a glass table. BOB looked down at the plush carpet while Binaca swayed in front of a large Tori Amos poster.
“This chick’s okay,” Binaca finally muttered.
“Fake redhead.” BOB said.
“I like the lip.” Binaca replied.
BOB eyed a decanter hidden on the Earth Mother’s desk from a respectful distance. He judged, correctly, that it was filled with a fine single malt. He didn’t reply to Binaca, but instead thought of Scotch hitting his own lips.
Then the double doors burst open and a tall, thin dark-haired woman strode into the room. Her hair was shoulder length, perfectly sculpted. Her figure was incredible, swaying under clinging robes in a way that could tempt any man – even those utterly loyal to BOB. She stood about ten feet from BOB, smiling smugly.
It took BOB a few minutes to remember her face. Then, with a look of horror, he pointed at her and hissed one word: “You…”
Binaca looked confused, stepping over towards BOB.
“Hello BOB,” the Earth Mother replied. She confidently strode over to her desk.
“You’ve met?” Binaca asked.
BOB ignored her, turning to face the Earth Mother. He stepped up till he was in front of the desk, on the other side of which stood the Earth Goddess.
“You’re no Earth Mother…” BOB muttered, “You’re the Blood Mistress Kraal!”
Binaca gasped, and cast wide green eyes towards Kraal.
“Well,” Kraal replied, “I’ve recently been repackaged as the Earth mother.”
“Oh come on!” BOB snapped, “The Earth Mother is fat and has lots of babies.” He gestured wildly, “Look at you! If you had a baby you’d split in half!”
Kraal set her jaw and tapped impatient fingers on her desk, “I’m a very busy woman, what is this appointment for?”
BOB spluttered, “I wanted to meet the Earth Goddess.”
“Well, you’ve met her. Bye!”
“What? No, I’m not gonna settle for that. You’re stealing people away from me and I’m the creator!”
“Oh? Really? You’re the creator?”
BOB looked at Binaca, then back to Kraal. “Uh…yeah.”
Binaca looked between the two undetermined totalities. “What…?”
Kraal smiled and nodded to BOB.
BOB sighed. “She thinks she’s the creator.”
“I am.” Kraal replied. She pointed at her crotch. “Vagina!”
BOB pointed at his crotch, “Chicken and egg, bitch.”
Kraal narrowed her eyes.
“We went out for awhile.” Bob explained quietly.
“It went south. I went my own way.”
Kraal snarled, “And left me with nothing.”
BOB pointed at her crotch. “Vagina.” He said.
“Wow.” Kraal said, putting her hands up as if surrendering. “Wow!”
“Maybe that’s the problem, BOB. Have you thought about that? Your quote ‘creations’ unquote are majority female.”
“51%.” Binaca said defensively.
“Thank you, slave angel.” Kraal smiled at the redhead minx, “So why so many women, BOB?”
BOB stammered his reply, “I-I-I-I… I. I! I! I! I!”
Binaca and Kraal stared at him.
“I.” BOB said. “I…am. I am. Yes. I am.” He grinned weakly.
Kraal took a breath and shook her head. “Well, women are looking for an alternative. Your macho way of looking at things just isn’t healthy for them.”
“Oh come off it! 100,000 years ago, you were ordering stone-aged barbarians to sacrifice virgins and drink their blood for strength! Now you’re gonna tell me you’re a friend to all the fuzzy animals and women’s rights all over?”
Kraal changed the subject, “So…where’s Mistress Eve?”
“She’s in the darkest heart of Borneo studying cannibal tribes.” BOB replied absently.
“Wow, sounds dangerous,” Kraal replied conversationally.
“We know she’s still alive.” Binaca replied, unable to hide the jealousy. “She’s still charging beauty products to her credit cards.”
Kraal turned to BOB, “So you hang out with these redheaded angel-sluts now?”
Binaca bristled but said nothing.
BOB started to splutter, rage rising over the surface.
Kraal raised her eyebrows, then turned to Binaca for help.
Binaca pointed at the decanter, “Give him a glass of whiskey, he’ll calm down.”
Kraal poured BOB a glass and handed it to him. It took him some time to compose himself, then he walked stiffly out of the room with Binaca in tow. They left the palace and headed back to Bob Heavens (where the sausage must now make a stand) in silence.
Comments are closed.