AOH :: XMASBOB.TXT|
Christmas with Bob, or Bob goes to school
Subject: A "Bob" Xmas Tale
From: email@example.com (Daniel Vieira)
Date: 16 Apr 1994 22:33:05 -0700
.....A passage from the SubGenius litergy.......
WHEN BOB CAME TO MY SCHOOL AT CHRISTMAS -- by Sparky Shayes
It was December 23, and I was sitting in my 6th grade classroom with
the mother of all hangovers. Not the best way to start the day.
This was the last day of school for two weeks, and we were doing our
piss off our teacher, Mrs. Rockgut, before the winter holidays commenced.
Jack was urinating in the corner of the room on the dunce cap, and Mary was
letting us play with her underwear under the desk. Billy was sitting at his
desk molesting a chipmunk, and boy, I never knew that chipmunks could scream
so loud! Most of the other kids were either jumping up and down on their
desks or setting them on fire. Mrs. Rockgut was wise to our little tricks
though. She was sitting with her feet up on her huge desk, her walkman
blaring her favorite gothic Death Metal tape into her ears, and her nose
firmly placed into a holiday Double issue of Playgirl. In other words, she
didn't give a damn what we were doing.
Surprisingly, I wasn't doing much of anything at that time. The night
before Dad and I had had a big Egg Nog and tequila contest (Dad won, by the
way), and I was feeling the aftereffects of it full force. I lost my weeks
supply of 'Frop to dear old Dad, and the lack of that particular narcoleptic
was making my misery even worse. The damn chipmunk screaming on the desk
next to me wasn't helping things much either.
Right about that time, Mrs. Rockgut sat up, put her beefcake mag back in
her locked drawer, pulled out a really nice Colt .45, and fired three shots
in the air. Everybody freezed. Mrs. Rockgut had learned early in her
career that firing a large gun was the only way to make kids spaced out on
too much cough syrup become somewhat manageable.
"Shut the Hell up!", she commanded from her desk. "It's almost 12, and
before I let you go for the day, I want to bring in a special guest I have
arranged for you! So sit down!" Mrs. Rockgut waved the gun menacingly, and
most of classmates complied with her wishes. That is, except for Rich. Rich
had eaten too many spiked jellybeans at recess, and was in no mood to sit
quietly for another of Mrs. Rockgut's "special guests", which usually were
either Hindu guru, Playgirl centerfolds, or guys with bigger guns than she
So there was Rich, thumbing his nose at Mrs. Rockgut, and chopping Suzie
into even smaller pieces. "Can it, apebreath!" he yelled back at her as his
machete plowed down into the still warm corpse beneath him, "I'm busy!"
She didn't even hesitate. With a fluid motion only seen on the best
70 mm film, Mrs. Rockgut swung the gun around, barely aimed, fired, and sent
Rich to his reward. The bullet penetrated his skull, and she snickered
softly as brains and bone chips flew in all directions, along with the best
spray of blood I'd ever seen. I wish Mary hadn't screamed so loud when the
remains of Rich fell lifelessly on her desk. My head was already ringing
from the gunshots.
"Who's next?" asked Mrs. Rockgut as she melodramaticly blew smoke from
the barrel of her .45. No one said a word for a moment, then we all broke
out with thunderous applause. Mrs. Rockgut stood, curtseyed nicely, and
sat back down.
"Now that the little interruption is over, let me bring in the special
guest!" She put down the still smoking gun on the desk, and rang a small
bell that sat next to it. "Boys and girls, please give a big round of
applause for today's special guest, Mr. J.R. "Bob" Dobbs!"
We sat stunned as the back door opened and a man entered the room. We
all turned around to see a man, about 5'10" or so, wearing a hot pink tuxedo,
complete with a top hat. His head seemed to be made of wax, because it
glowed like the brighest phospherent lichen. In his mouth was a pipe that
cosntantly blew smoke out of the bowl, even though he never seemed to blow
into the stem of it.
"Howdy boys and girls! Or should I say, 'Ho Ho Ho!'" said "Bob" as he
ran up the center isle of the classroom, high-fiving us as he passed by. We
cheered and screamed, and Billy even threw his chipmunk (now in an irrev-
sable coma) down on the floor. "Bob" got up to the front, smiled, and
removed his top hat. To my utter shock, his hair had not been in the
slightest bit messed up by the hat. It sat perfectly in place as if it had
been shellaced there.
"I'm really glad to be here!" he cried, winking broadly at Mrs.
"Your teacher has asked me to come down here and wet her wis -". Mrs.
made a grunting noise, and planted her foot deftly into "Bob's" shin. He
groaned loudly, then continued, saying, "Er...that is, she asked me to come
down and speak to you about the true meaning of Christmas. So here I am."
"Bob" paused a moment, scratched his head, then said, "Well, to be
perfectly frank, I don't have the slightest clue as to what Christmas really
means. Hell, I mean, it was just another excuse for "Connie" and I to get
drunk and parade naked around the living room. I'm really not sure where to
Mrs. Rockgut made a little coughing noise, then said, "Well, "Bob", why
don't you talk about traditions, like the Christmas tree for instance. What
does the tree symbolize?"
"Ah yes, the Christmas tree!" cried "Bob" "Ya know kids, getting the
tree was always one of my favorite traditions. Me and pop would go down to
the nearby forest, pick out a tree, and cut it down. I used to pretend that
the tree was screaming in pain, and sometimes I would scream every time that
pop slammed the axe into the trunk of the tree. He would get really pissed
off and chase me around the forest for a while swinging wildly until he
succeded in imbedding the blade into another tree, which would just give me
another excuse to start screaming again, and -"
"Um....excuse me "Bob". I think you're getting a little off track with
your story." said Mrs. Rockgut, fingering the trigger of the .45 and doing
her little cough again.
"Ah...yeah," said "Bob", "Well, me and pop would get the tree home and
drag it in the house. Ma always complained about the tree, no matter what
it looked like. 'I'ts too big! It's too small! Blah blah blah...' You get
the idea kids. What a bitch. Anyway, we'd set the tree up in the living
room decorate it with a bunch of little plastic gizmos and lights which were
real crappy looking. Every day ma would put more water in the basin the tree
sat in, but she knew the damn thing was dying anyway. One day I asked her
why she was bothering to water it when she knew it was on it's last legs and
we were just going to throw it in the incinerator after Christmas and that
was about the time she had just had it with me and chased me around the
house with the new chainsaw she was going to give pop. She got tuckered out
before she could get me but she did manage to put a few new windows in the
place. Anyway, the next night we left the lights on tree on when we went
to bed, and the damn thing caught fire and burned down not only itself but
the whole house as well. So there we were homeless in the snow, and I just
mentioned to pa that it was really stupid to leave hot lights on a dead tree,
and if he had just listened to me the entire incident could have been avoided
and then he and ma took turns beating the sh -"
" "Bob"!" yelled Mrs. Rockgut, "Please watch the language! And I think
the childdren would like to hear the positive aspects of the season. Why
don't you tell the children what you're giving your wife for Christmas and
why you think it will be so special for her?"
"Sure!" said "Bob". "Well, "Connie" just loves fur. I mean she goes ga
ga over any type of fur thing I bring her. She has fur hats, fur coats, fur
blouses, fur potholders, fur lingerie, fur everything! Well, I was at a loss
as what to get her this year, so me and a couple Yetis time travelled back
to the dinosaur age and indian wrestled a couple of Tyrannosaurus Rexes.
See, I figured that she had enough fur items, and I wanted to make get her a
real nice set of alligator skin luggage, but boy those prices were steep. I
guess that's because they don't make the damn things anymore since gators are
endangered species now. So then I figured I could time travel back to the
fifties and buy a set, but then one of the Yetis told me that would be
too easy, and if I really loved "Connie" I would duke it out with a couple of
dinosaurs. I think the jerk just wanted me to prove my virility or
but it sounded like fun so the three of went back to pre-caveman days and
beat the sh-....er..crap out of a couple of those overgrown Chia-pets. So
after we knocked 'em out we started talking about the best way to skin the
critters. I had forgoten my knife, so one of the Yetis ripped open a large
gash with his razor sharp claw and neatly pulled the skin right off that
savage beast. They started skining the other one, but I was looking at the
now skinned remains of the Tyrannosaurs and I got to thinking about how it
looked sort of like a prarie squid and that's when I got really hot , so I
pulled off my pants real quick and rammed -"
He was interrupted by Mrs. Rockgut, who let out a scream like a dying
mule, and yelled "That's it! I've had enough of this! I thought there was
some merit to this whole SubGenius thing! I thought perhaps your particular
sect would have some new insight on the holiday, but I can see you're nothing
but an idiotic overgrown moron! Get out!" She picked up the .45 and waved
it at "Bob", who stood dumbfounded.
"What the hell's your problem?" he asked, doning his top hat again.
"Too much brandy at the teacher's banquet last night, or is my stupifying
sexual presence too much for your little ol' female heart?"
Mrs. Rockgut went bananas. She began firing at "Bob" who, by either
divine providence or dumb luck managed to twist and turn just in time to
dodge each incoming bullet. He ran
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