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Ask Bob!
Song in my head: "Mr. Big Stuff, who do you think you are...?" - Jean Knight - Nobody offered to write my column this week. Well, I did get one email, but it was about 8,000,000, KB's long, so I decided not to open it. I figured it would be some sort of virus or something. Or maybe someone sent me a naked picture of himself. But with an attachment that size it must be a photo of their whole family, aunts, uncles, grandparents, the whole sha-bang. The thought of looking at someone's naked grandparents, really grossed me out. So I deleted it. Now I got nuthin' but these stupid questions to answer...so here goes: Jaffer, from Sidney writes: Hey Bob. Why do you want other people to write your column for you? Are you dead or something? Why yes, I'm quite sure I am dead. The living dead to be exact. But that has nothing to do with me wanting other folks to write my column. The funny thing is, every morning I take care of my "daily-business" before I hop in the shower. I like it that way and my body is all-ready to go after I have my morning cup of coffee. This is all nice and fine you may say. But Bob? What does this have to do with anything? You see, when I go to the rest room, my kitty Moad'dib comes running into the bathroom. If I get in without him, he jumps against the door, if it is not closed securely then the door swings open and there I am bare-bottomed on the toilet, with the door open. It's especially embarrassing when company is over. If the door don't open, then he just scratches and scratches against the door so you don't have a moments peace. I just go ahead and let him in. It all started when he was a little newborn kitty. Moe was restless at night and usually spent most the wee hours jumping on our bed, tickling my fee, nibbling my ears, or licking the inside of my nostrils. Finally one night I got super-pissed and grabbed him and threw him in the bathroom down the hall. Then I decided to throw him in the bathroom every night, so I can get some sleep. At first he ran and hid, scratched, and tried to run out when I threw him in (I left the litter box and food with him). Soon I had broken his will and he was sleeping in the round bathroom sink, every night. In fact, he started to consider the rest room "his domain." This meant that every time you went to the restroom, Moe would come running in, because you were going into his room. It became a ritual that he would run into the bathroom, jump on the counter and stare at you in the eyes, until you turned on the water (just a tad), so he could drink from the cool stream of fresh water. No use putting water in his dish, that wouldn't do. Ok, so far so good. But, It just so happens that when I have a bowel movement, it smells worse than cesspools deep within the lower depths of hell. And by that, I mean it didn't smell too good. So as soon as the main load gets out, the kitty stops drinking and puts his head up, as if to listen to something. Soon he jumps down and starts circling the floor round and round. Within' a few seconds he's scratching to get out of the bathroom, on account he don't like the funk. If there's one thing I don't do, that's fake the funk. So every morning I go the the bathroom and hold the door open waiting for kitty. Then he jumps on the counter I give him water. Then the big blow-out. Since the door is not within' reach, I have to get up, before I'm done, and let him out. That's just what mornings are like in the Senitram house. Aint' that a bitch. And now you know! COMING NEXT: Another Guest writer? Email Bob! webmaster@theweirdcrap.com
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