The Boble IV: Lots of Water (part two of two)

Part one is right here.

And part two begins now…


C.U. – Telephone Receiver

JUDY (O.S) Hello BOB, you’ve reached 1-900-MORAL-DILEMMA, have your credit card number ready!  My name is Judy, and I’ll be your representative today.  What can I do for you?

(Judy is very happy.  Her voice should be all smiles.  I’d like a chirpy yet sexy voice…you know, the attractive fat girl voice.)

INT. BOB’s Voodoo Pad – Day

(If you could have BOB wearing that smoking jacket he had for the “Cheese Whiz” skit, that’ll be cool.  Maybe silk pajamas – but definitely a jacket or robe of some sort.)

BOB: Well, I’m pondering about destroying the world and everyone therein.

JUDY (O.S.)  Thereon.

BOB: What?

JUDY (O.S.) Everyone thereon

BOB: Uh…yeah.  Thereon.  Whatever.

JUDY (O.S.) Well, Mister BOB, that’s quite a moral dilemma indeed!  You’ve called the right place!  My advice, if I may humbly supply you with it, is to flood the entire planet except for a chosen person and his family.  Tell that one person to gather all the animals together to preserve the way of BOB on Earth.  Oh, and be sure to kill the I.R.S., and let me live.

BOB: That was quick.

Judy: Well, it’s a stock answer…



BOB now had his idea.  In a deep voice he announced that he was going to flood the planet.  Now he had to seek out a good person…

Thus was Nowaya.  Nowaya was an average fellow.  A charming guy doing his best for a dollar and living in the man’s world.  He had always wanted to be more but simply couldn’t get a break.  Every time he felt like he was getting ahead, something seemed to short-circuit his hopes.  For this, he blamed the Chinese, or maybe (and more likely) his wife.  He tried not to blame the Chinese for everything, but that was so hard when Nowaya constantly found himself hard up for cash or free time.  He just knew that Chinamen were doing better statistically and that burnt him up.  Often, he took out these fears on his wife – whom he had met in the Hunan province some years earlier.

To bring in extra cash, Nowaya made contraceptives on the side.  He used what he called “the skin of a virgin child” to create the perfect condom.  It is possible that such a description could have been a marketing ploy as his best paying customers were Chinese businessmen.

Nowaya lived out in the ‘burbs.  It wasn’t a great part of town, but it was the best he could afford.  His dad had really worked himself into the ground, what with all the boozing and whoring.  But it was the inheritance that had bought Nowaya his suburban house so, in the end, he was proud of his pop.   He spent his days a pious man — he feared his wife, teased his dog and stole from his kids.

Nowaya was the image of a loose, BOB-fearing type.  In the end, he was cool.  By ‘cool,’ we mean that he didn’t like coconut slurpees. That definition of ‘cool,’ of course, is selectively cool and may not be appreciated by BOB-lovers living in other stages of ‘cool.’ Suffice it to say that Nowaya was the best example of ‘cool’ at the right time and place.  He hung out in parks after dark and used his voodoo on all them young whyte hos.  He mixed Pixie Stix into his coffee at work and became vicious and misanthropic.

In the last days before BOB came to Nowaya, the Great One saw to it that his chosen man landed a good job — a seat at Line 7 in the Department of Motor Vehicles, where his only job require­ment was to look important enough to attract a lengthy line.  He would then tell all the patrons that they were in the wrong line when they finally made it up to his window.

And lo, BOB noticed how well Nowaya matured and grew in his new job.  Thus it was that BOB came unto Nowaya in the guise of Bob Smith, Part-Time Hygienist.  On the evening the Great BOB had chosen to visit Nowaya, the good and righteous servant of all things BOB was in bed testing his latest contraceptive.

“Nowaya!” BOB shouted in the unsuspecting Nowaya’s ear while, at the same time, shaking the poor man viciously.

Nowaya had been lying beneath the taut body of his seventeen-year-old lover.  BOB’s startling appearance ended the bliss and the chosen one of BOB leapt up and crossed the room to where he kept his pair of .45’s.  He held them just like his favorite Hong Kong action star and snarled, “Motherfucker!  What you want?”

“Sorry,” BOB grinned at the young girl.  He sat next to her and placed his expert hand on her inner thigh. She was spellbound, unable to move. “You know, infidelity is one thing. Incest is another,” BOB pointed out.

“She’s my wife’s cousin!” Nowaya shouted. It’s not like she’s my daughter!”

BOB raised one finger, his other trailing further up the girl’s leg.  Her head fell back as she moaned, clutching BOB’s wrist and thrusting his hand deeper.

Nowaya watched all of this with an open mouth, unable to reply for a few moments. Then he turned to BOB.  He let his guns drop for a moment.  The girl was clutching at BOB’s arm, writhing in pleasure.  Nowaya asked, “Who are you?”

“I have come, Nowaya – “ the girl let out a vicious scream, and Nowaya gritted his teeth. “And so has she!” BOB laughed heartily, but stopped quickly when he noticed Nowaya staring angrily at him. “I – er – “ BOB removed his hand with a guilty look.  “I have come in the name of all that is great.”

Nowaya, suspecting that this old boy had something up his sleeve, muttered darkly and raised his guns again.

BOB cleared his throat.  That alone should send chills up your spine.  It should make you scream out with BOBishness until your throat gets dry and you need another drink.  At least, those were some of Nowaya’s reactions for, at that point, Nowaya fully realized who was in his room. Being great of spirit, Nowaya saw through BOB’s rather flimsy disguise and knew the great God for who he was: The…great God. Nowaya became so excited that his contraceptive burst.

BOB, meanwhile, was totally unscripted. That means that the following is some pretty fantastic acting!  In order to save face, BOB’s first reaction was to pretend as if Nowaya hadn’t guessed his true identity.  He kept up the Bob Smith charade, perhaps simply so he could talk about himself in the third person.  There’s a certain literary fulfillment with such an action.  “BOB has seen Man’s wickedness on Earth.” BOB said, “And He is sorry that He has created Man, and now wishes to cause him a horribly slow and painful death.”

“Cause who a slow death?” Nowaya asked.

“Uh…Man.” BOB replied.

“So Man wants to cause…but…BOB…”

“No. BOB wants to cause Man a slow death.”

Nowaya thought for a moment.  This Great One was obviously drunk. “Just in general?  All men?  All humans?”

BOB squinted slightly. “Yes. All men. But you, Nowaya, are not on His shit list. You have been chosen to survive.  But BOB shall destroy all men, women, and children, because He is a just and fair God.”

“I don’t think that works.” Nowaya mumbled. “Where’d BOB get an idea like that?”

BOB grimaced and tilted his head slightly, “From some girl on the phone.”

“Some girl!”

“A telephone operator.” BOB replied defensively.

“As long as she’s qualified,” Nowaya mumbled.  “This really doesn’t sound like a wise move, though…”

“Yeah,” BOB replied dejectedly, “BOB has an odd feeling that He is not considering all the factors… Oh well!  BOB’ll do it anyway and worry about consequences afterwards.”

“Ain’t that the way…”

BOB smiled. “Indeed.  Anyway, BOB decrees that you must build a big ship and gather every animal on Earth.  Place the animals on the boat, take your wife, and wait a while.  It will rain for a long time, and you shall then float around.  Bye, then.”

BOB vanished awkwardly.  The great and almighty God was having second thoughts. Now that he actually had voiced his plan out loud, it really did sound flawed. But to admit that in front of Nowaya would show weakness, which would be admitting fallibility, which would cause the demise of all things BOB. So speed on with that sinister plan, O BOB.

So Nowaya built a big ark.  Hell, he wasn’t doing anything else anyway.  Once completed, he set forth to gather all the animals of the Earth. First, he gathered all the males.  BOB sent an angry letter the next morning about this, we can assure you! Then Nowaya returned all the males and collected all the females.  Again, a problem arose.  Finally, Nowaya collected a female and a male of each animal.  He had to break a bitchload of laws to get some of the endangered animals rounded up and by the time the ark was finished, Nowaya was a wanted man in 48 countries.

Once the animals were collected, Nowaya lined them up in orderly rows. He sent the animals to the showers without water and had them all cut up into little tiny pieces. The pieces were then sealed within watertight plastic bags and stowed beneath the floor of the ark’s game room. After all, animals were dirty and would have spoiled that fresh new ark smell.

As Nowaya built the great ark, the doomed people came to watch.  Most of them ended up harassing BOB’s chosen, as well as calling him names such as Crevasse, Snorkel, Sneezeball, Limphanger, Twistedloin and so on.

Meanwhile, in Bob Heavens (where there is soggy sausage), BOB pondered about how he would go about flooding the planet.  He knew, you see, that scientists of the future would contradict all that he had done by proving it scientifically impossible.  He decided to grab the first two angels he could find and get an outside opinion.

There were two Office Angels at the water cooler, talking dirty about one of the female angels working down in the mailroom.

“Hey there,” BOB interrupted, stepping up and getting a paper cup.  He filled the cup with water and smiled reassuringly at the now awkward angels.

“Uh…hello boss.” One of the angels muttered.

“So I was thinking about flooding the Earth, you know?  Maybe just the major spots between the T & E, that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, we heard something about that.” The angel replied.

“I was going to have a few people survive – one of them is Nowaya.  We’ll put him in the book.”

The second angel seemed very uncomfortable, “Uh, that’s the guy who’s balling the seventeen-year-old, right?”

BOB nodded, “Uh-huh.”

“Why…uh…why that one?”

“Why not?” BOB tensed.

The angel put his hands up in front of his face, “Right, sorry boss, whatever you say.”

BOB leaned back against the cooler, “Anyway, I’m worried that scientists will shoot me down, say it’s an exaggeration.”

“Oh no,” the first angel said, “there’ll be evidence.  Just have them do a dig.  Floods and shit like that show up in the soil.  No problem.”

“But the whole planet is out of the question?  I mean, flooding-wise?”

The angels looked at each other.  The second angel spoke, “But wouldn’t that mean punishing innocents?  I mean, you visited that one town in the desert and now you want to destroy nomads in the Arctic?” The second angel jumped as BOB tensed again, “I mean, you can do that because…because…”

“Because you’re cool.” The first angel looked hunted, gripping his empty paper cup and shaking slightly.  “Um…so, if you flood the area between the T & E in a way that can never be repeated, it’ll be believable and there’ll be scientific evidence thousands of years from now.  Not to mention that the only written word comes out of that area, so if we put that short-eyes of yours in the book, the story will spread.”

“Oh, cool.  Thanks.”  BOB shook the angel’s hand and headed back to his office.

“Okay!” BOB then called out, “Let it rain real hard!”

And it did!  So there.  You don’t really need science to be God.  Hell, when BOB created Man he didn’t know jack shit about DNA.  Cancer, color-blindness, alcoholism, every genetic defect is simply stemmed from an extreme lack of scientific knowledge.  It was a nightmare for a supreme being to see such chaos, don’t you understand?  BOB thought to himself that the flood was a very good thing.  To wipe out Man would solve so many problems.  BOB could start again – and this time he’d use some reference books.

BOB allowed himself a nostalgic moment as the rains came down.  He remembered how easy it was when Man was just a group of fuzzy beasts frolicking in the oceans and the forests.  Dumb, hairy beasts with nary a care in the world.  Why BOB had to involve himself any further was a mystery.

BOB’s nostalgia was thanks to a Woman’s influence.  For quite some time, BOB had been having a whirlwind romance with someone the angels called `Mistress Eve’.  She was all the red-headed, pepperminty goodness any superior being needed.  It was rumored that she was the daughter of some other god from some alternate dimension, but the angels in Bob Heavens (where there is realistic sausage) believed that Eve was just a prostitute who was trying to fleece the whole operation.  They preferred the brunette BOB had brought home from Hot Monkey Love.  She’d been sent off to Bermuda with a squad of angels and told not to bother getting in touch again.  Oh, the heartbreak of a fickle lover…

Back down on Earth, the rains fell across the known world. Nowaya sat in his boat and toasted to his health while society collapsed.

In the city of Hot Monkey Love, the people climbed atop their roofs and cried unto BOB:  “Why have you betrayed us?”

BOB answered them slowly…so slowly, in fact, that he didn’t finish telling them until they had died.  Then BOB and Mistress Eve took off for an extended bird-watching trip in the tropics.

The waters maintained their crest for quite a while and Nowaya’s ark floated around.  Years passed until, eventually, BOB returned to Bob Heavens (where there is tanned sausage) from his tropical vacation.  He sheepishly remembered poor Nowaya.

“Holy Sausages, Batman!  I’m sorry!” BOB told Nowaya. “You were so lowly and unimportant that I forgot all about you.”  BOB then told a rather peeved Nowaya to send a bird out to find land.

And so Nowaya released a crow.  But the crow got sucked into the jet intake of an airliner.

And so Nowaya released a sparrow.  But the sparrow slammed into a plate glass window.

And so Nowaya released a duck.  But a hunter shot it.

And so Nowaya sent a dove.  But the dove inexplicably exploded. (We’re running out of ideas.  You can tell, can’t you?  You’ve already guessed.  You hate us!  Why?  Why?!)

And so Nowaya sent a genetically engineered flying chicken (of pure Aryan stock), which went forth and found land.  When the chicken returned days later with a poison ivy leaf, Nowaya set out to find his new home.  It was a difficult journey as Nowaya, without thinking, had slaughtered his chicken-guide for the victory dinner.  But his boat was pointed in the promised direction and as long as he kept the shadow of his cock on his left side, he was sure he could make landfall.  And, lo, he made it safely to land.

After the crew got rid of the poison ivy rashes, Nowaya and his people settled on the top of a mountain.

“Say, Nowaya…” BOB said, appearing in a levitating lounge chair, “I guess I’m sorry for what I did.  I bless you, and would like to tell your kids to be fruitful and multiply.  But in order to have kids to be fruitful and multiply, you have to be fruitful and multiply.”  BOB laughed heartily.

“What?” asked Nowaya.

“Be fruitful and multiply!” BOB gushed happily, “Anyway, I promise that I will never flood the Earth again.  I shall give the Earth to you, and never destroy it with water.  There will be no more floods.”  BOB was stressing a point, though it was more to the audience than to Nowaya.

“You’re saying you do have plans to destroy the Earth some other way?” Nowaya asked.

“Oh?” BOB looked away, “Well…subdue the Earth and have fun.  The water will soon dry up, and I’m sure that the animals will successfully multiply.  I’d like to see how the crow and all those others do, though.  Okay, gotta go!”

And he did.

And everyone had lots of kids.


Next time on The Boble:

He built a tower to defy BOB, he betrayed his people to False Rob, and he couldn’t get laid to save his life. 

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