Boble II: Exit, Stage Everywhere I

Chapter One
“Moe Blows”

Good morning Holy Land!

As you may remember from a page ago, the Hebos had not only been enslaved by the Fayro, but they also had lots of kids.  It wouldn’t be a Genesis without lots of kids.   The Hebo’s had lived in Egypt for many years and, despite being slaves, they had formed a very large community. In the meantime, the old Fayro died and a new Fayro ascended the throne.  The new Fayro’s name was Adolf – he had a funny little mustache, a heavy German accent, and a twitchy trigger finger.  Which are three words that are very difficult to say when you’re drunk.  This new Fayro desperately hated the Hebos.  Furthermore, it is rumored that this Fayro has begun construction of a new Death Star.  Now the Rebel Alliance must fight this menace, with the help of the cuddly Lawlies who, as chance would have it, are an even match for the Fayro’s highly trained and well armed Imperial Army.

You think we’re kidding, right?

We are.  Sorry.  Just…kind of bored, really.

“I decree,” the Fayro said to his Reichsmarshall on one pleasant Egyptian day, “that we must kill all the Hebo children!”   And so, the young Hebos were hunted down and set on fire.  This was the beginning of the Hebo Persecution and Fayro Adolf had only the weakest of justifications for such evil deeds.

“They’ve cornered the slave market,” the Fayro argued.  “They’ll bankrupt us economically.  They threaten the purity of the Egyptian race.  We need living room.  The Pyramids are finished and I can’t think of another project.”

Elsewhere, hearing of these terrible things, a young Hebo woman took her son and threw him into the river to save his life.  The child sank to the bottom, but bloated after a couple of days and rose to the surface.  He then floated down the river and into the Fayro’s trout pond.  The fish happily nibbled on him until one day passed when the Fayro’s daughter – Axl – found him and brought him inside.  After clever usage of CPR, the baby was brought back to life and adopted by the young, rebellious Axl.

The baby was named Moe, which meant “He Who Dances with the Sun and Is the Adopted Son of Fayro Adolf’s Lesbian Daughter Axl” in whatever the hell language the ancient Egyptians used. Moe had a severe speech impediment, which caused his words to be slurred, thus everyone thought his name was Blo.  He had a song that he learned, wanna hear it?

No, you don’t.  His speech impediment was so severe that it would come out as garbled nonsense.  Kind of like what the aliens will hear when they listen to the record on the Voyager spaceprobe.  Anyway, this story isn’t about speech impediments.  It’s about what Moe became. Do you like shorter sentences? It’s the only way to fight digression. Why, once, I was sitting there in the commuter lounge editing furiously when BOB’s Pope came up to me. It was he who told me that the mindless rambling and run on sentences I was prone to ruined the translation of the Boble. He said that I should stick to the simple text. The idea is to avoid the placement of stories which have no meaning or bearing on the immediate subject. Then we went out for the dollar happy hour at a local bar which I frequented. The Pope, however, doesn’t drink. I always found that to be difficult, as I would tend to get piss drunk and then make a fool out of myself. But the Pope assures me that a fool can’t really make a fool out of himself, so that’s okay.

Blo (Moe) became a very powerful (semi) son of the Fayro and he beat up the Hebos every day to prove that fact. You’ve seen the movie. The fun part was when Blo built a farm in the wasteland and began to grow sand.  His hot (adopted!) sister – Erin – came with him.  Erin wanted to be a man, and thus was writing in her journals how to act as such. She was a little twisted, a high school dropout, and always strung out on BOB knows what.  She had three kids from four previous marriages scattered across the country, as well.

Erin had come back to Blo’s wilderness to “recover” and get in a “human frame of mind”. Her latest decision to change her sex was an attempt to get away from her past and start over again. Blo wasn’t really too keen on this philosophy, but he was perfectly happy to help out his sister in whatever she chose to do. Whenever Erin came up to him and asked advice as to how she should behave if she were a man, Blo helped her out. Erin, you see, could understand Blo perfectly. She often translated for him whenever people came by the farm. (Plot point!)

“So if I were a man,” Erin asked “How would I approach a woman on the street so I can be guaranteed of some hot, hot clam-slamming action?”

“Well,” Blo would reply, “whenever you see a girl, you gotta hoot like an owl, and get all slack-jawed, and then unzip your pants and – “

“Hold on!” Erin barked, furiously writing in her journal to keep up with his words.

“Unless she’s ugly,” Blo continued, “then you stick out your tongue and tell her that she won’t get laid unless her father molests her again.”

“That seems pretty severe.” Erin muttered.

“Well, maybe I’ve been hanging out with those priests from the Osiris temple too much…”

Erin hastily scribbled down some final notes and then inquired as to some pick-up lines.

“Aw right.” Blo said, “First ya see this beeee-utiful bitch sittin’ right there on a barstool wi’ her legs crossed and all…” drool, “Ya can see right up her skirt, right?  It’s important how much leg you can see without bendin’ over and crawling on the floor.  Ya then gotta ax her as to the whereabouts a’ any large boyfriends in the bathroom…ya gettin’ this?  YA GETTIN’ THIS?!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Erin replied, jumping slightly as Blo shouted at her, angrily waving his cigar in her face.

“A good line is, ‘Hey, let’s go see the parking lot.’ or ‘I’m a man, how ’bout joo?’ or ‘Want to pat mah monkey?  Cause he’s pretty damn neeeer anxious to be patted ’cause he’s jumpin’ round his cage and upsettin’ hiz water!’ Got it?”



“Do I have to keep writing everything down with that queer spelling?”

“You better be respecting my street jive in your journals, whore!”

“Yes!  Of course.  Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “And the sexual act itself…?”

“Oi!  From behind. ‘At gives ‘em the feelin’ a bein’ takin lahk an animule. Day like dat. If ya can, sodomize ‘em – always a surprise. Then flush their heads in the toilet while ya do it.”

Erin swallowed, “I don’t know if I’d enjoy that…”

“But ya wanna be a man?”


“Then ya won’t have to worry ‘bout it then.” Blo replied, “Oh, yeah, ya wanna false name an’ address. Always ‘member that. An’ use a taxi or the bus, never give ‘em a lead as to yure identity in case they decide to call da Man.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be a man after all.  This sounds terrible.”

“Well, when ya say it out loud, it is terrible.  But these are things never spoken amongst us men.  Theys be understood, simple nuff.  Therefore it’s alright.  What’s a man without self-made regret and loathing?  Tha’s what is all about.  We like ta hate ourselves, it makes us feel superior.  Also gets us laid.”

Suddenly, a nearby bush exploded in flame.

Blo shouted out in surprise, “By the brown back hair of BOB and the spread legs of the nearest crazy chick!” He leapt up and urinated upon the flames immedi­ately (a collective, unconscious impulse of all primitive people).  He found that the bush weren’t burnin’ none!  “That bush ain’t burnin’ none!” Blo exclaimed.

“That’s right, buddy!” the bush said.

“Holy smokes, Blo,” Erin exclaimed, “a talking bush!”

“Didn’t I see this in a John Waters movie?” asked Blo.

At this, the bush exploded upward with spectacular special effects.  “Yes!” the bush decreed, “This lovely couple below me have won this beautiful staff of iron!”

Pop!  A staff appeared in Blo’s hands. Long, hard, and iron. Erin eyed it with an unnatural gleam in her eye and Blo felt empowered by its phallic strength. The Bush switched to the dreaded all capitals in order to emphasize its massive massiveness.

“AND,” continued the bush, “A COLLECT CALL FROM ONE GOD BOB!!”

“What?” Erin asked.

“I was continuing my original statement,” the Bush replied.

“Oh,” Erin said. “The staff trick distracted us.”

“Yes…” the Bush paused for a moment. “Um, will you accept the charges?”

“I’m sorry… The staff is a gift, right?” Erin replied.

“No…yes… No, no. The collect call from BOB, will you accept the charges?” the Bush replied.

Erin and Blo looked at each other. “Um…no.”

The Bush paused for a moment, blue-yellow flames licking at the air.  “So…I mean BOB.  Your God.”

“I think our God has enough money to make a phone call.” Blo replied.

“I’ve stopped writing in street jive, brother.”

“You could stop writing all together, Erin.”

“Look, people – “ the bush said.

Blo threw his arms in the air, “Okay!  Fine!  God.”

“Okay…” the Bush sounded a little unsure of itself.

BOB spoke next. “Hello Blo, I’m BOB.” the disembodied voice rang through the desert like an explosion.  “The news is that you’re not the Fayro’s son but are instead a Hebo.” BOB’s humor was obviously too high-brow for Blo, because the poor man immediately became crestfallen at the announcement of his Heboishness.  That meant he’d lose his yachting license, get kicked out of the club, and wouldn’t be allowed to participate in that mass orgy over at Isis’s temple.

BOB continued, “That means that Erin can legally marry you because she isn’t your sister.”

“What?” Erin asked.  “Why would I want to marry this asshole?”

“I’m just saying that to illustrate the point.”

“I don’t really think you had to.”

“Maybe I’m lonely.  Maybe you two should kiss.  Blo, pretend to be the cable repairman…”

“We accepted the charges for this phone call?”

BOB cleared his throat. “Go to the Fayro and say: ‘I am a Hebo, let my people go.’  Ready?  Try that once with me –“

“Why?” asked Blo.

“Because you’re a Hebo and your people are enslaved.”

“So?  Honestly, I’m not very happy discovering that I’m actually a slave instead of a prince.  I mean, well…fuck you, to be frank.”

The flaming bush intensified, forcing Erin and Blo to stumble back a few paces.

“You’ll do this shit or else I’ll feed you to weasels!” BOB boomed.

“Right, whatever.”

“Good, now, say what I told you to say.”

“I done be a Hebo bes’ lemme go, then.”


Erin answered, “He has a speech impediment.”

“But he was talking fine a minute ago.”

“The world’s a strange place, O BOB.”

BOB was silent for a few moments. “Okay.” He said at length. “I think I see the flaw here. Erin…you shall accompany Blo – I mean Moe -and translate for him.  If the Fayro starts acting like the freaked out, hopped-up, crackhead fuckhole that he is then Blo will take the staff and turn it into a snake.  This will mess with the Fayro’s head something awful.”

Blo shrugged, “Okay.”

“Now I’m going to test the staff-snake thing, so don’t be surprised when – “

Pop!  A deadly adder appeared in Blo’s hands and his terror-stricken scream echoed across the desert.

Next time:

Slithery Staff, Bloody Water, Ozzie and Harriet Kill and Kill Again