Boble II, Exit: Stage Everywhere IV

Chapter Four
“Desert, Bread, Chicken Sandwiches, Water”

So everyone was hungry.  In a desperate attempt to feed his people, Blo tried to call out for pizza (as translated by Erin):

“Could you please send four thousand extra large pizzas out into the desert?”

The pizza guy registered surprise.  Well, according to the 2009 edit of this translation.  In 1989, he spoke with an exaggerated Italian accent.  I just had to change it.

“I’m quite serious.  We’re starving out here.”

“Ya damn prank callers!”  And, with that, the pizza guy hung up on poor Blo.

Blo cared deeply for his people, and he was crestfallen that he would not be able to feed them as they had hoped. So Blo sat back and thought about the options – as the entire future of the Hebo tribe may well depend on his survival instincts. At the time, Blo was living in a tremendous palace which was alternately dragged across the desert, or placed on the backs of his Hebo slaves. He took all of the food and water as a ‘sacrifice to needed functions’. This action was perfectly justified, for Blo needed his full capabilities intact if he were to think up an alternative plan to save his people. If he had been starving, or dying of thirst, Blo may not have been able to take care of the Hebos as expertly as he was currently doing. During this period, Blo put on an extra 105 pounds and drank a little too much gin. But he was still the leader of his people.

Thus it was that Blo, in his corpulent state of dictatorship, was somewhat taken aback when Chief Foreman Bill of the Hebos approached Blo’s dinner table one night.

“Say, Blo,” the chief foreman began without preamble, “every Hebo is starving.  We’ve been forced to eat sand and drink sunshine for the past…oh…seventy decades.  Has BOB abandoned us?”

“No,” replied Blo (translated by Erin), “BOB is currently engaged in an illicit sexual affair with a girl named Eve.  I’ll be sure to talk with him when…oh, excuse me.” Blo and Erin moved back as a king’s feast was laid out on the diamond banquet table set up next to the indoor swimming pool.

Bill continued. “Another thing, Blo, how come the entire Hebo tribe – all ten thousand of us – have to carry your palace on our backs?  You’ve got seven stories of capitalistic decadence…cable TV, a phone, a swimming pool, an observatory… Isn’t all this a bit much?”

Blo considered this statement. “Bill,” Blo said, “I don’t know what yer talkin’ about.  Yer one deluded asshole, ya know that?  What the hell is this cable TV business?”

Bill scratched his head, “Maybe you’re right… I suppose we all could be imagining this. I’ll go take a nap or something; it’s this heat, man.”

“Hey,” Blo said with a wave of his hand, “no problem.”

And so Bill, confused and angry, stumbled towards the elevator.

And then Blo awoke from his fevered dream. (Yes, it was all a dream.)  He was lying out under the cold desert sky, alone and drifting in and out of hallucinations.

“What is the meaning of this dream?” he asked (translated).

“It is a message!” decreed BOB in his loudest voice, speaking from the studly heavens.

“But what type of message?” pleaded Blo.

BOB snickered as Mistress Eve began to braid the hair on his leg with her tongue.  “A message about…” BOB brought a bullhorn to his mouth and leaned over so that Blo could fully hear the heavenly voice, “A message about bread.”

“Whutt…?” Blo slurred.

“I shall sendeth you…umm….

“Rain down,” Eve whispered, her hands working their way up BOB’s leg.

“Ummm…I shall rain down upon your people heavy baskets of slightly stale bread! Then shall I send you quail!”

“The vice-president?” asked Blo.

“Don’t be a fool!” BOB shouted through his bullhorn, “No one ever remembers vice-presidents. That joke is completely obscure.”

“Look,” Blo said, “can you just come down here and talk to me like a normal person?”

“No,” Eve muttered, unzipping BOB’s pants and swallowing his supreme member.


“What is quail anyway?” Blo asked.

“Um…” BOB screwed up his face as Eve performed masterful fellatio. She eventually drew back to catch her breath, looking up at BOB. “It’s a type of bird.”

“Quail, I think, is a type of bird,” BOB said to Blo.

“Oh, okay.”

“And thus,” BOB said, “shall the Hebos collect their daily portion. I shalleth observeth if they obey my commands, and if they do not I shall cause painful genital diseases to strike them down.”

And thus, Blo told the people to collect the bread that would fall from the sky.  The people waited upon their knees, not moving until sunset.  When BOB looked down upon them, he was confused. He spoke through a thunderburst to his loyal servants, “Why is it you look to Bob Heavens (Where there is yummy sausage)?”

“We await the bread from you, Great BOB,” said Blo, translat­ed.

“Ha! You bought that?”

“But, BOB…” Blo said, translated.

“Okay, okay. I’ve got some sausage. Boy, have I got some sausage! Anyway, I’ve got this stuff, so I’ll send it down upon you bitches.”

“Thank you, BOB.” Blo replied.

And, lo, BOB sendeth the sausage. The people ate all night and threw up the next day.

“And for my next nifty stunt, I shall cause soda to flow from the rocks,” BOB said.
(Beneath the noise of the booming thunderburst, the Hebos could hear the complaining voice of Mistress Eve: “BOB, honey, stop starting sentences with ‘and’.”)

And so soda burst forth from the rocks.  Thus the Hebos decided to live there, in the middle of the desert.  They ate sausage and drank soda and, as the years passed, corruption grew amongst the people.  A war was fought with this guy from the Unitarian Church – but that’s not impor­tant.  Blo had minor trouble with his father-in-law, who happened to be a judge (that’s a cool story!).  After being reprimanded by his entire family, Blo was put on trial.

The next morning, when a number of witnesses for the prosecution were found mutilated by a machete, Blo swore that a desert bat had gotten a machete stuck in its wings and had become frantic when trapped in each of the victim’s tents.  Blo was found completely innocent after that.  In fact, most everybody started to do whatever he bid of them.  Amazing how a few gruesome murders of key witnesses can have the same effect as, say, a Reichstag fire.