The New Testicle II: Kram 96, part one
Additional to The New Testicle:
The Bobsel According To Kram
Rome, AD 45
Tuesday the 4th, at Gentile John’s Bar and Grill
For years, I have battled with my brethren concerning the publication of this account. But the truth must be revealed, and my hopes for a future career in cinema has been tragically destroyed. As I approach my 70th year on this planet, I come to the conclusion that nobody wants to hear the story of Bob Jr. The boss was a man of great vision, and even greater power. Yet more and more usurpers to that power have appeared in recent years. I hear tell of a man born in Israel who claims to have powers much like Bob Jr, but failed to successfully exercise them. The stupid bloody Vikings had him put down a few years ago, and now the people treat this man like a martyr. Apparently, the desperation of the Hebos trapped under the thumb of the Viking Empire has reached a point of mass hallucination — or dementia. Regardless, the lessons of Bob Jr seem to have fallen by the wayside. Of course, it has been some time since the boss last made his mark. I have withheld the publication of my text in hopes of bringing the story of Bob Jr to the big screen, or maybe making a really terrific TV Mini-series. But I have been stopped at every turn. Therefore, I commit these works to a safe place in the caves by the Great Salt Sea. The blind monks of BOB at the colony of Cumonme have promised to protect and cherish this account for all posterity. My duty is nearly done.
(Footnote: Translators note. A mysterious tragedy, wiping out the monks at the Cumonme colony, caused this and many other Bobological documents to be lost in time. For the first time since the original publication of The Boble in 1988, we present to you the full text of the Bobsel According To Kram. Have a blast.)
I: In Which The Boss Tries to Hide His Super Sexy Ultra Cool Appearance So That Normal Humans May Accept Him
Here begins the Bobsel of Bob Jr, a name which means `Son of BOB’:
Nohj the Fountainhead of Holy Water, the lord of the Western Mountains, and the undisputed master of the desert was talking avidly to a cactus one day when his assistant approached. Nohj, at first, failed to recognize his assistant as anything but an apparition. The faithful servant meandered along the desert road, the setting sun burning at his back, and Steno notebook swinging loosely at his side. At first, the assistant appeared as a stick figure – a hideously malformed demon lurking along the road to strike down Fair Nohj in his sleep.
But Nohj was not asleep.
Being ever alert, he reached for his faithful pilgrim’s staff and waited behind a rock while the demon-thing marched up to his camp-site, looked around, and called out his name.
“In the name of BOB!” shouted Nohj, leaping out from behind the rock, “May you taste the bitter poison of metal and be slain!” Nohj swung the staff, bearing a sharp nail on one end, at his assistant. The faithful servant adroitly ducked below the swing and knocked Nohj off his feet with one swift kick. Then he crawled over and looked down at his master’s face.
“Hey,” he muttered.
“Dear BOB!” Nohj hissed, “Origen!”
Origen smiled grimly, “There’s no need to be paranoid, sir.”
“Sorry,” Nohj sat up with Origen’s help and tried to clear his head. “What news do you have for me?”
“Well,” Origen squinted into the setting sun, “I did as you asked, but there really was no need…”
“It appears that the Son of BOB is coming to you.”
Nohj rubbed his chin, “No shit…?”
“No shit, sir.”
Origen checked his Steno book, “It’ll be about four days. But he has some orders for you.”
“For me?” Nohj yelped, then turned on Origen with a glare of reproach, “You spoke to him? You – ”
“No shit, sir.”
“What he say?”
Origen turned a page in his Steno book, hesitated, then reported. “The Son of BOB would like for you to…” Origen cleared his throat and decided to read the message directly, “`Wash your stanky ass, shave your stanky face, and pull your weak baptism act together to ensure an adoring crowd when I arrive.'”
“He wants publicity?”
“Damn…” Nohj scratched a louse out of his pubic region and popped the minute bug into his mouth. “Guess I’d better get cleaned up, then.”
“Does this mean that sir will be needing the items from his previous lifestyle brought out of storage?” Origen asked hopefully.
“For the love of BOB, Origen! Yes! Yes! And yes! again. Get back to the house, prepare my garments, draw me a bath, mix me a martini, and…get the car.”
“Gin or vodka, sir?”