The Boble VI: Abrahamilton Hits It Big

Last time on “The Boble” –

Ready?  With me:  ich bin; du bist; sie sind; er ist.

Horen Sie zu und weiderholun Sie:

Sabine studiert Medizin.
Sabine likes to look at naked little boys.

Sie lebt in Amerika.
Since her Nazi grandfather managed to slip away like the filthy murdering bastard he was, Sabine’s family has been over here in the US.  Sabine now lives in the US, and she likes naked little boys.

Peter und seine Eltern wohnen in Washington.
Peter is 47 years old and he still lives with his parents.  He likes to pretend he is a writer but all of his stories are about crime-solving animals.  Oh, and Peter and his parents live in Washington.

Sie haben ein Haus.
They have a horse.  House, sorry.

Chapter Five
“Abrahamilton Hits It Big…Bad Craziness in Egypt…Trapped by the pigs”

Let’s run ahead a few years now. The scattered peoples have all formed various communities, religions, etc. The age of the god-kings is upon the land and the sands of time bring us forward…forward…forward to the savage days of Abrahamilton, father of BOB’s chosen people. But before all of that insanity came about, Abrahamilton was known as Tom. He was an ordinary, honest man — the perfect candidate for a popular hero. BOB seems to have a pretty clear pattern by this point: the ordinary guys became great rulers. BOB seems to like seeing the little man triumph against the odds.  Go figure.

Tom lived in a small town and didn’t do much with his life. He spent his lonely nights watching classic horror films. Much of the time he read books on political dissent and vowed to himself that he would ‘cause a ruckus’ the next time he went to the market. Alas, Tom was much like other people in the world. When the time for running amok and scandalizing the norms was upon him, he shrank away from responsibility and hid from societal contact. The great fear of public speaking and being recognized by other Human beings was strong in Tom, but this would all soon change.

Tom had a brother who went by the name of Lots, but Lots had long since abandoned Tom to wallow and die.  Lots saw the pit that his hometown was and then ran off and built his own town where, he imagined, trendy hipsters would migrate and live peaceably. We’ll get to that story in good time. For now, however, we join Tom sitting in sullen silence suspecting that satellite and a submarine sandwich were better than cable. Sure he had nearly 100 channels, and sure all the entertainment allowed in middle-class Judea was there for him, but it just didn’t seem to be enough.  Something wasn’t complete…something his extensive collection of animal porn couldn’t really touch.

This was about the sum of Tom’s life when BOB descended upon him.

“Go forth,” BOB said without preamble, “from this place, and lead your people to the land of soda and sausage.  You have been chosen as patriarch for your people.”  BOB appeared to have been at the marijuana gin again. Tom was doubtful immediately of this situation, though he in no way doubted the existence of BOB.  There was only one response to this holy decree.

“Red queen!” Tom shouted.

BOB blinked.  “What?” The Great One had fully materialized, resplendent in his leather bomber jacket and jeans. A dark, silky shirt was visible beneath the brown leather, a new addition to the BOB wardrobe. The Great One was unshaven and looked generally unkempt, as if he had just awoken.

“From the Manchurian Candidate.” Tom muttered hesitantly.  Upon BOB’s blank stare, Tom cleared his throat and kept talking – fast and nervous, “It’s just like I’ve been told all of this before… Like, now you come to me and tell me this as if it’s all perfectly natural.  It’s very familiar.  So, like, in the movie this guy is brainwashed by – “

“Look,” BOB said, “Everytime I come down here I meet up with some twistoid.  Now I’m giving you a mission.  I want you to lead my chosen people to a land of yummy goodness.  Men kill for this kind of break… I’m rising you up from your fuck-me wage slave job and giving you absolute control over these dirt-eating heathens.”

“Sounds like work.  Why should I do it?”

BOB closed his eyes and exhaled slowly through his teeth.  “This looked so good on paper…”  He looked at Tom and smiled weakly. “You should do this because I am the Lord your BOB.”

Tom was ready for this answer.  “Oh, right! You just come in here and start going off on some weird tangent and – what? – do you expect me to jump up and go do it?”

“Yes.” BOB replied. “It’s simple, really. I told you what to do.  I don’t have to knock, bright boy, I’m your God.  I created you.  I can turn you into a pool of ice cream, man. I’m not kidding here.”

“So where do I go?”

BOB buried his face in his hands, massaging his temples and groaning. “Go thatta way!” BOB decreed, pointing vaguely left.  Then BOB was crippled by a sneezing fit. He pointed at his head, “Hurts.” he muttered.

Tom shrugged. “Okay.”

“Okay that it hurts?” BOB asked slowly.

“What?” Tom asked.

“What?” BOB seemed startled.

“What do you want?” Tom barked.

“For you to be patriarch to all of your people and – “

“Yes,” Tom sighed, “I got that part.  As I think about it, I’m just not sure if it’s a realistic plan. What are the options?  Maybe we can put up a king and pull the strings or something…?  I mean, I can imagine what’s going to happen if I suddenly grab the microphone and say, ‘Yo, I’m your Patriarch!’”

“I have an idea – why don’t you just do it and see what happens?”

Tom shrugged.  BOB was omnipotent, after all.   There wasn’t much space to argue.  He packed for a big trip and stumbled out into the desert.  No one followed him and he traveled for three days until BOB came unto him again: “Go back!” BOB shouted, “and get everyone to follow you, for you are to lead people who will be endlessly persecuted.  You shall settle in a land which you’ll be fighting for throughout the next forty centuries!”

“You didn’t mention that before,” Tom muttered.

“You want a challenge, don’t you?” BOB asked.

“No.”

“Yes, you do.” BOB said through gritted teeth.

After looking at BOB’s eyes, Tom quickly headed back and asked everyone to come with him to the promised land. Unfortunately, Tom told them what BOB had said about the persecution and the fighting so, of course, no one would follow. It was time for a plan, and Tom was a master at hatching nasty little schemes. It was a talent he didn’t call on much, but this was a special case.  Likewise, he knew that failing BOB would not be a healthy thing to do. So he kidnapped the town mayor’s daughter and ran out into the desert.  Enraged, the town (or rather, the people of the town) formed a posse and gave chase.

They (Tom & Captive Beautiful Woman) eventually arrived at an area outside Egypt where they could rest for the night.  They knew that the next day would find them within the boundaries of the Fayro’s kingdom and they would, no doubt, stumble into the great Fayro’s troops.  Despite this, Tom was feeling relaxed enough to let his delicious hostage out of the small traveling bag he had kept her in for most of the journey.

“What is your name?” he asked after she was through choking and stumbling around.

“My name is Vinyl.” She answered dutifully as soon as she got her wits back.  Traveling through the desert in a bag really did have a tendency to scramble brains.  Vinyl wished she had remembered that from the last time.  She would have put up more of a struggle.

Tom nodded and pointed towards the horizon, “Vinyl, that is Egypt. We must pass through there. When we do, the people of Egypt will look upon your beauty and want you!  Thus shall they kill me and rape you repeatedly.  Unless you’re a crazy chick and into gang-banging – “

“I’m not.” Vinyl said quickly.

“Very good, then.  I kind of lose my advantage whenever the girl leaves.  I have developed a cunning plan:  You are to claim to be a man (ex-man) and remark to everyone you see that your sexual preference is hedgehogs.”

Vinyl nodded her head in admiration of this plan. “I say… yo­u’re an awfully cute guy. Why don’t we just get married?”

“We are already married in the eyes of BOB,” Tom replied.  Gently, he took her hand and pressed it against the front of his pants.  “I’m not much for the romantic thing, Vinyl.  But I’ll give it a shot: I got a huge boner for you.”

Vinyl blushed, then grinned.  “That’s so sweet.”

“We will rest here tonight,” Tom said unto Vinyl, “And tomorrow we shall pass through Egypt.”

“Rest is the last thing I had in mind.” Vinyl replied.  “Maybe it’s being thrown into a bag, but I can hardly contain myself.” And, so, she leapt upon her captor and began to take him roughly. At the moment of orgasm, she asked Tom to punch her in the face. From that moment, Tom was truly in love.  When his time came, he moved his member to her mouth and filled her up with his creamy man-mix, then allowed her to spit it out in his face and knee him in the balls.  The two young lovers then rested for the night.

In the morning, Tom led Vinyl down to Egypt while, about a day behind, the angry lynch mob led by Vinyl’s parents followed the trail.

Tom and Vinyl entered the great city of “Fayro Mutenhamenns Greatest City Ever Built” and looked at all of the sites.  The Fayro had certainly placed many amazing sculptures throughout his “Greatest City,” some monuments were even more impressive than the old “Fayro Smackramen II’s Greatest City Ever Built”, standing in ruins about 100 feet from Mutenhamenns Greatest City.

“Every man in charge has to prove something,” Vinyl said sadly, gazing up at a giant statue of the Fayro Mutenhamenns 178th son by his 67th concubine.

“Don’t go lesbian on me!” Tom shouted, “I’m in charge, and I don’t want to prove anything.”

Vinyl disagreed, shaking her head sadly.  “You’ll have to prove that you’re in charge.”

“I am in charge!”

“But you’ll have to prove it… Every man needs to taste power.”

Tom laughed, “Any power I have comes from BOB.  What the hell do I care if people don’t believe me and walk away?  Less trouble for me, really.  I mean, honestly, fuck them all.”

“You say that because you are unsure of your authority,” Vinyl muttered.

“I know my fucking authority. I could sodomize you and flush your head in the toilet right now if I wanted to.  That’s authority. Okay?”

“You are truly a remarkable man,” Vinyl breathed.  Her breath caught in her throat as she saw a public restroom and she started to point it out to Tom.  But the man was muttering something under his breath and dragging her away.

Meanwhile, as Tom had predicted, the Fayro saw the beauty of Vinyl.  The great Fayro soon attempted to approach her.  He snuck up to her in the bookstore and caught her at a quiet moment.

“Say,” the Fayro said to Vinyl, “is this guy boring you?” he nodded his head towards Tom, who was reading the back of a porno novel.  “I’ve got syphilis and I’m a nymphomaniac.  Why don’t we go back to my palace and take a bath in cherry yogurt?”

“That was a fabulous come-on line!” Tom whispered discreetly, looking up from his book to watch the proceedings.  Oh, yes, Tom was a smart cookie.  Alert, too.

“No thanks,” Vinyl said to the Fayro in a deep voice, “I’m really a guy and I only deflower hedgehogs and marsupials.  You have the brain of a small mammal; alas, you have no pouch in which to put your young.  Sorry.”

“What about reptiles?” the Fayro asked.

Vinyl leaned close. “I’ve got a special pill that will give you large breasts.”

The shocked Fayro backed away and let the two pass.  Neverthe­less, BOB struck the Fayro’s house with a plague and sent a battalion of large men to rough him up.  Well, at the least, to give him quite a good dusting.

By the time the Fayro had escaped from the septic tank where the large men had stuffed him, the angry lynch mob that had been following Tom had already passed through the grand country of Egypt.

Eventually Tom, Vinyl, and the angry crowd arrived at a real nice place somewhere East of Egypt.  Tom settled there and explained to the angry crowd that he and Vinyl were in love.  There was a nice wedding, and it was not long before a large town was built on the spot.

Later, Tom discovered that Vinyl could bear no children – she hated them!  But Tom, feeling mortal and limited, had an extreme desire to procreate – thus assuring his immortal will in a physical form.

“I want a child,” Tom told her.

“Then go screw the maid!” Vinyl retorted.  She’d gotten tired of this argument very quickly and often threw this half-joking response at Tom.  But, on one particular evening, Tom decided to go ahead and see the maid.  A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.  Good old Tom loaded up on tequila and went to the maid’s tent.  The maid, a stunning beauty by the way, didn’t quite know how to take the arrival of her master.  Tom, pished out of his box, stumbled up to her with his schnooz in his hand demanding instant gratification.  Nothing suited her more, of course, as she saw that her master was quite large and more than ready.  The maid, who is an incidental character never to be mentioned again, had fantasized of this moment and was eager to please (she had to keep working for those Christmas bonuses, don’t you know!).

The maid bore Tom a child whom he named Male.  A redheaded stepchild to beat at Christmas-time, and this was what pleased Tom the most.  Now he could get out all of that hidden aggression against his father that he had kept bottled up for so long.  (Beat me, will you?  Who do you love?  You love your work!)  Poor Male.  Oh well, the kid probably deserved it.  Bad Karma.

Shortly after Male’s birth, a priest took the young child to a secret area of Manly goodness.  A slimy, smoke-filled ditch that was walled with pictures of naked women and had a roof formed from a large, lubricated condom.  Young Male was set on a desk and circumcised by a letter opener – and all the mistakes were stapled back together.  With this, a new covenant was born.

And later that day, BOB came unto Tom and said. “You are to become Dad to everyone who is cool.  Your people have been chosen to be pretty damn nifty, and I want you to set up their laws.  Your name shall now be Abrahamilton!”

And Abrahamilton looked up at BOB. “One thing, Great BOB…?”

“Yeah?”

“Destroy my brother Lots because I don’t like him.”

BOB thought about this, wondering who Lots was, and then he said: “I shall go and destroy him.  Then I shall take him and force him to join the Jehovah’s Witnesses where he shall surely go mad.”

And it came to pass.  BOB screwed Lots over lots and Abrahamilton assumed his position over the tribe he now called “the Hebos”.  But the story of Lots is not completed, for BOB actually spared Abra­hamilton’s brother.  Before the destruction of the city where Lots had made his home, BOB gave the poor sap a fair chance to make a run for it.  The Great One made the following comments on an episode of “60 Minutes” concerning this incident:

BEGIN TRANSCRIPT 4/13/87; 17:43:44 (“BOB UNVEILED”)

“I never really enjoyed destroying cities.  I mean, every time I had to destroy upwards of two hundred thousand people, I found myself feeling guilty.  Now, Lots had moved himself to a big city.  I mean there was a whole bunch of people there.  It just didn’t feel right to blow all these people to pieces, so I figured that everything would work out if I gave Lots his freedom and then annihilated the city.  That’s where the trouble began.  You see, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.  So, I decided to simply test the faith of Lots and his family.  I came to them and told them that I would cause a total solar eclipse and that they must not look at it.  Lots agreed right away, but his wife asked me about the eclipse.  I described the event to her and informed her that she would not be able to see such an eclipse for another 25 years. That’s when she became unruly.

“If it’s such a big event, she said, why can’t we look at it?

“I replied that she just wasn’t allowed to look at the solar eclipse.  It’ll be bad.

“So she asks me why it would be bad.  I mean, now she was whining.

“Just don’t look at it, I said, it’s a bad thing to look at the eclipse.

“She says to me ‘What’s with this good-bad thing?  If the eclipse is going to be something that we won’t be able to see in 25 years, and if it’ll be such a spectacle, then why shouldn’t we look at it?’

“I was becoming uncertain at this point.  I told her, again, that she shouldn’t look at the eclipse.

“Now, in the end, the eclipse blacked out the land and Lots’ wife couldn’t contain herself.  She ran outside and looked up at the eclipse, so I turned her into a pillar of chives.

“I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right.  But when she went against my request and looked up at the eclipse, I had to think fast.  Right there in front of me was a potato, and the first thing that popped into my head was ‘chives’.  Then – boom! – there it was.  Sometimes I’m funny like that.  Is that a sugar cookie?”

Next time on “The Boble”:

Knight Rider, a shadowy flight into the dangerous world of a man who does not exist.