Boble II: Exit, Stage Everywhere III

Chapter Three
“Frogs, or A Hard Stone’s Gonna Fall”

Blo had been watching the course of a rock’s shadow for the past three hours.  All was quiet and peaceful until Erin appeared on the rise, walked down into the valley and viciously kicked the rock.  “I’m just not having any luck with women!” she barked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Blo replied.  “Women suck.”

“But it really gets me down.”  Erin sat down, staring at the ground in front of her.  “I’m lonely.  What am I doing wrong?”

BOB, who was penciling in numbers on a spreadsheet and sipping a daiquiri, replied, “You treat women like objects,”

“I do?”

“Sure,” BOB said, “And only guys can treat women as objects.  They expect it.”

“The guys expect it?” Erin asked.

BOB turned to Blo, “Have I been muttering all morning?”

“Dangling modifiers,” Blo replied absently, grabbing BOB’s daiquiri.

“No,” BOB said to Erin, “The women expect to be treated as objects by men. In fact, with the right guys – such as moi – being abusive to women can really be an aphrodisiac.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that buddy.” Erin muttered.

“No, really,” BOB replied, putting down his pencil.  “Why, it’s guys like me who torture women by saying things like ‘don’t worry baby, if you don’t have an orgasm, you won’t get pregnant’.”

Blo faked a laugh, “Dude, that was funny in, like, 12th grade.”

“Watch it!”

“That’ll just piss them off .” Erin said.

BOB seemed taken aback, “Oh!  I see the problem.  You’re after a relationship!”

“Yes!” Erin replied.

BOB shook his head, “Oh my, I’m sorry.  I misinterpreted your intentions.”

“What do you have there?” Erin asked.

BOB grinned, “New curses.  Let’s try this thing again.”

Erin shuddered slightly, “You’re all knowing, right?”


“Then let’s just skip to the one that works.” Erin suggested.

BOB seemed puzzled for a minute, then he smiled broadly. “I can’t sneak a thing past you, you dyke bitch.  Okay…we’ll skip through the trial of humanity and get on with the moves that count.”

So Blo went to the Fayro, and Erin delivered the same message as before.

“We’re Hebos, and we demand that you let our people go, you Middle Eastern pig-dog.”

The Fayro replied, “Didn’t I kill you already?”

“No, you just – “ the Fayro’s adjutant began, but was quickly cut off with a slap to the face.

The Fayro stalked over to Erin, beating his riding crop against her thigh. “I could chew on your bones for hours.”

Erin shivered.

“But I will not let these Hebos go.”

“It’s not like we need them – “ the Fayro’s adjutant began, but he shut up as soon as the Fayro turned on him.

“Then it will be!” translated Erin, “Behold!”

Blo beat his staff upon the ground.

“Snakes, again.” The adjutant muttered.

There was a distant rumbling throughout the land, then BOB’s masterplan became apparent:  Multiple curses, all at once.  Locusts fell upon the crops, hail fell from the sky, and minor politicians everywhere stumbled from behind their desks in the grips of a vile and fast-acting pestilence.

Still, the Fayro refused Blo’s demands.

When BOB learned of the Fayro’s refusal, he flew into a frightening and terrible rage.

It was Erin who came up with the flawless and perfect solution.   Take the crown prince and do…things to him.  That would  prove a serious point.

With BOB’s blessing, Erin and Blo snuck into the Fayro’s house and kidnapped his eldest son.  Bashing in the kid’s skull, they disassembled the young heir and mailed pieces of him back to the Fayro over a long period of time.  When religion fails, terrorism is the next best alternative.  Just like Grandma always said.  These events brought about the event where Blo received a letter inviting him to the Fayro’s temple. Blo and Erin met with a minor official this time  (the Fayro was out playing golf for the weekend).

“I take it,” said the Fayro’s assistant under-study coffee-maker, “that you want the Hebos freed into your possession?”

“Well…yeah.” Erin replied.

Blo said something in his garbled speech.

“Okay then, take them!  Go!  Before the Fayro gets back.” the coffee-maker ordered.

“Tgdghe?” Blo asked.

“Yeah.  Get ’em outta ‘ere!”

Shocked, but always ready for the unexpected, Blo rounded up the Hebos, put out the bush fire, and led the entire Hebo tribe into the desert.

“Oh come on,” one of the Hebo elders complained a few hours into the first day, “not the fucking desert again.”

The Fayro returned early and, much to the despair of his assistant coffee maker, was not pleased that all of his slaves had simply walked away.  He sent his troops after the Hebos, and they chased the chosen people of BOB back and forth for a few days.

Now, on the third day of the 10th year of Fayro Adolf’s reign, there was a strange occurrence where all of the water in the Red Sea was needed elsewhere.  The Hebos crossed the empty sea safely, but just as the pursuing Egyptian troops hit the seabed, the desperate call for water was cancelled and the Red Sea hurried back to its proper place.

In the end, the soldiers all drowned.  So it was that the Hebos traveled aimlessly through the desert without food or water for a trillion years.  Or, at least, it sure as shit seemed like a trillion years.  And about the Red Sea thing, look, that’s what the original texts said.  The water was ‘needed elsewhere’ but it was a ‘false alarm’ so the water ‘came back.’