Tuesday, August 10, 2010

The Kidnapping of Bob

I stand here everyday watching traffic go by. My name is Bob and this is my sad tale.

I’m no longer a young man despite my baby face. Even though I have aged I still have plenty of women tell me I’m cute, adorable and cuddly. They crowd around me wanting pictures and kisses. Who am I to deny them? Maybe it was my popularity that brought about the horrific event or maybe it was just plain meanness. Either way the event that occurred has affected me in a way in which I will never be whole.

It had been a long grueling day. I was exhausted from standing in the heat all day greeting customers. You see that’s my job. I am a greeter. No, not at that discount store down the street. Nope I was a greeter long before that store was even in existence. I probably greeted your parents or even your grandparents on their dates. I’ve watched as the cars went from running boards to fins and now to those new fangled hybrids. What exactly is a hybrid? Why do they think that electric is better than gas? Doesn’t it take gas to make electricity? Now a car that ran on garbage, that my friends would be a hybrid. I digress.

It was dark and the gang was closing up shop inside. My job is to guard the door. I stood watch as the last employee waved good night. I was ready to get some rest. The stars were twinkling brightly and there was a cool coastal breeze blowing through the canyon. This is the time of year I enjoy the most. Being able to enjoy the night air is one of the perks of my job. I watched as the traffic began to die down and people retired to their homes for a little ice cream and television. That life is not for me. I instead would rather watch the world from my perch.

I was lost in my own revelries when I heard a car pull into the empty parking lot. I was ready to warn them that the establishment was closed and all had gone home when I realized something was not right. This group was not our regular fare. They were rough looking and had their shirts pulled over their heads. This would never do for me; it would mess up my painstakingly perfect coif. I watched as the surrounded me. I was helpless. I tried to cry out but did not emit a sound. That’s when I saw one of the hoodlums wield a hacksaw in my direction. “OH DEAR GOD” my mind cried but my mouth remained closed I couldn’t run to get away nor could I fight back. I was frozen, panicked.

The young hooligan began just below my knees, the sound was sickening yet I was helpless to squelch the debacle. My life passed before my eyes and I made my peace with the world. I saw the many of thousands who had passed before my post. I remembered young men in nubucks and letter jackets escorting girls in poodle skirts and saddle oxfords. I saw hippie couples dressed so that one could not tell who was male and who was female. I recalled young families with infants in carriers and grandma driving scooters all looking at me lovingly. I knew I had a great life and that now that it was ending I had no regrets. I felt myself fall and something shatter. I knew I should feel pain but I did not.

The young ruffians then picked me up and lugged me to the awaiting get-a-way vehicle. I was manhandled into the back of the van and they sped off into the night. I decided to fight. I decided to try to escape. I would crawl if need be. Just then the van took a turn a little too sharp and I was able to roll my weight from one side to the other smashing one punk’s knee. I had an advantage here I could see. I was bigger than they but I was mortally wounded. How could I manage to disable them and get away I wondered. That is when fate stepped in, synchronicity took place.

From my perch I watched the traffic crew eat up the old asphalt and start to lie down new. They day had been hot and the asphalt had not been setting well so the crew had decided to come back and work at night. There in all their glory they sat in the middle of the thoroughfare. The driver of the van spotted them almost too late and threw on the brakes causing all my weight to shift against the back doors of the van. The force projected me from the vehicle like a giant missile sending me skidding down the middle of the street.

The hooligans decided to cut their losses and fled. Unfortunately it will take some time to mend both my mental being as well as my physical. Although I understand they are doing some incredible things with fiberglass these days.

Poor Bob Was cut off at the knees.

Poor Bob will he ever look like his twin again?

For another instance of a Bob's Big Boy being kidnapped watch here:

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