The Legend of Bobbi-Jo

  • Humor – 7 Pages –

I was 18 years old when my mother spontaneously combusted. As it happened I was enjoying my morning breakfast of Grape Nuts and Lucky Charms coated with melted butter.

No milk was involved.

My Mommy had dropped an Eggo on the floor. Obscenities strained my ears as she and Bobby-Jo, my pet ferret, wrestled over it. I was reading the back of the Mueslix box when I saw a bright flash out of the corner of my eye. Curiously, I ate another spoonful of breakfast. There where my mother used to be, was a pile of ashes.

Bobbi-Jo was greedily devouring the eggo waffle with savage glee.

Since mom was presumably dead, I knew I would have to tell my father. The only problem was I didn’t know where my father worked, or his telephone number at work, or his whole name. I had always called him papa and daddy.

I remembered that he worked at some type of place doing certain stuff. Oh yeah, I kind of remember what he looks like.

After great concentration, I realized…He worked at a store.

I finished my breakfast.

Picking up Bobbi-Jo, I wrapped him around my neck. I looked around to see if I had left anything and then left the house. I knew my papa worked at the store. “How many could there be?” I thought to myself. So I headed toward the store.

And so, my adventure had almost begun.

Prologue Part II

It was a beautiful day, with the exception of the pouring rain. I looked toward the sky and cried mercilessly, “Why, why, oh God, why!” The pouring rain beat down on my oversized bullum head.

I took a few steps back and to my surprise it was not raining, it was the neighbors sprinkler gently messaging my brow with a fine mist of refreshing water.

I looked to the right. I looked to the left. I decided to head left. Or perhaps I went right. I’m not sure which way I went. I get left and right mixed up a lot, but I went one way that’s for sure.

The store was down the street, so I knew if I just kept going down the street I would eventually end up there. Where my dad works.

At the store.

A few days later, I realized my father must work a lot farther than I thought.

Chapter 3

The next thing I can remember I was eating something out of a garbage can.

It was then I realized that I forgot to do something at home. I headed back towards home. Five minutes later I was flushing the toilet in the upstairs bathroom.

I resumed my journey.

Prologue – The Final Chapter

“Come play hopscotch with us,” the rabbit said.

And I would have, but I had just obtained a great deal of money in Chapter two. I don’t know how much it is, but it really weighed me down. Beside, I couldn’t hop nor Scotch. “Oh, please mister, gimme a biscuit!” I heard the rabbit cry.

I ran, I ran so far away, I couldn’t get away. When I finally stopped I was tired. Where’s the bacon grease?” Elvis kept saying in the background. I was hungry. “No time for food! I gotta find…what’s his name…papa.”

Chapter 4 – The Next Generation

“Come to papa,” I said.

The first time I saw her, she was waiting in line for meat at the Deli. I sat in middle of the store isle and sucked on my Mountain Dew.

She turned and looked my way. Then looked away.

She looked back, then looked away.

Looked at me. Looked away.


Turned away.

At me.


Then it was her turn.

“What can I help you with Ma’am?” asked the deli clerk.

“Give me some fucking head cheese and some shitty provolone.” She purred in a husky, sexy voice. “And slice that as thin as you fucking can you spasticated moron!”

I fell in love right then. She looked back at me and gave me the finger.

“What a real woman,” I thought. I ate my last Ju-Jube and decided right then and there, that I would marry this woman.

I was hungry.

I was horny.

I walked right up to her face with a grin, ear to ear.

“Wipe that Ju-Jube fucking smile off your face and tell me what you want,” she said with a beautiful smile.

“Marry me. Cook for me. Be my whore,” I said with a idiots look of glee.

“I married you in chapter two, you fucking moron.” Her voice caressed my ears.

Chapter One – The Journey Begins

I needed my red wagon to carry stuff. I couldn’t find it. I don’t know if I have a red wagon, so I left out the kitchen door. A breeze came in and blew the ashes around of…of…what’s her name?

Soon I was married.

After I finished eating something from that garbage can, I thought, “I have all this money from Chapter two…why don’t I buy some food for Bobbi-Jo.”

It was a grand wedding.

This one guy was there, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another…how many is that? Oh crap, I lost count.

Anyway, aside from the guys there was a girl there too! And another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one, and another one and another one, and another one, and another one, and I think that was all. Not counting me and what’s her name.

I went to the store to get food for Bobbi-Jo.

That’s where I met her.

The beauty queen, or dancing queen, or something like that. She’s some kind of queen of something. She got a crown, and got to wear a special dress, and got flowers and stuff. She says it because she has big breasts.

Actually, we were already married in the store. But that’s oldest time I can remember her. I mean, it seems like that’s when we met, cause I can’t remember much before that, about meeting her I mean. But I guess we were already married when we met.

Me and the dancing queen.

Prologue – The Morning After

After the wedding she wanted to know just how much money I had. I showed her the money I got in Chapter two and she took me to some places to buy stuff. The next thing I knew we had a bunch of stuff we needed, just like at home.


Where was home?

Where was papa?

Where was mamma?

Where was I?

Prologue – The Final Chapter, Part II

“How many monies is in there?” I asked.

“Oh I don’t know?” he said, looking into the bag. “Maybe two, three maybe, at the most. ”That’s good’” I said, “Have fun with them.”

It dawned on me that I needed a job to pass the time. Since I wasn’t always looking for papa, I needed something else to do. But first things first. Since I don’t know where I live, I needed to buy a house.

Which I did. In chapter Two.

As I was frolicking in the bathroom, Bobbi-Jo fell into the toilet. AS he scrambled to get out, a look of pure serenity crossed his face.

“Don’t worry little fellow,” I said. “I’ll get you out!” I tried with all my might to grab him around his mid-section, but he was too slippery from the water and he was squirming too much for me to get a proper hold. I went to the kitchen and got a pair of salad tongs. They didn’t work. Quickly thinking, I flushed the toilet so he would have a dry surface and be able to grab hold of the edge of the toilet.

I flushed. A look of terror came upon his face as he swirled round and round in the blue water, slowly sinking. I tried not to laugh, but he really looked funny goin’ round and round like that.

I burst out laughing and he disappeared along with the blue water.

I knew this would haunt me.

I knew he would haunt me.

I knew he would come back and kill me.


I ran out of the bathroom sobbing, then cooked a burrito in the microwave. I didn’t want to buy the new car on an empty stomach. I remember hearing mom say, “Never go to the store on an empty stomach you’ll end up buying the whole store.” I didn’t need a whole store, just one car. So a belly-full-o-vittles would do my body good

“The store…” I thought outloud. “The store…maybe pops would be there!” I became elated. I had a lot of money left over from Chapter Two, I mean, yesterday.

Yesterday. I remember it like it was only yesterday.

I met a man, who was on his way to bingo. Soon, I had all the money I would ever need. At least that’s what…uh…what’s her name said. My wife. I remember the look on her face, as she disappeared in the blue water. Swirling, swirling, swirling…no wait, that was Bobbi-Jo.

Never mind.

The money came in handy, but no amount of money will ever replace Bobba-O’Reily…what’s-his-name.

The ferret.

We got the car, and soon we were at home eating. “I don’t feel so good,” she said. “I think we’re supposed to cook this hamburger before we eat it.” She said, “I know what it’s like to be dead.”

I said, “No, no, no, your wrong…When I was a boy, everything was…”

“Shaddup and go to work,” she screamed.

So I did.

I was pushing shopping carts, at the store, at work. Papa was not there, I had already looked. But I figured that if I hung out there long enough he would eventually show up. Anyway, I was pushing this cart across the street back to the store when I noticed two big men shoving another man into the trunk of a big black limousine. As I stood starring, one of the men noticed me and walked over.

“What the fuck are you looking at…Mutha-F*cka?” He asked, flashing his big, gold, horse teeth.

“Nothing…Mutha-F*cka,” I said, and continued pushing the cart.

Whoa, son,” he said as he pulled out a big, shinny pretty gun. “You stop right there!”


“Right there!” he said.

You see, I was walking and got confused, “But I was over there when you first said that,” I explained pointing to the sidewalk. “Should I go back to the sidewalk?” I said as I started back to the location.

“I said stop there! Yous stoopid Mutha!” he yelled.

“You mean here?” I said pointing down.

I’m gonna kill you right here and now!” He shouted.

His partner walked over. I noticed he was a big Dolomite looking Mutha-Sucka.

I was saved!

“Kill dat stoopid Mutha-Sucka!” the dolomite lookin’ Mutha-Sucka said.

“I’m afraid you have seen too much,” the first Mutha-Fcka said, while chuckling. “Now you must die.” I’m gonna blast a cap in your Mutha-Fckin’ marshmallow-puff-boy lookin’ white ass…Mutha-Sucka!”

I remember what my Mutha-Fckin’ mother said about deterring attackers. She went to a Mutha-Fckin’ self defense class, and taught me two important Mutha-F*ckin’ steps that would save me.

So I pissed my pants.

And vomited.

Both men started laughing and the first Mutha-Sucka dropped his gun. I rolled over to the dropped gun, picked it up, and laying on the ground, I shot the first Mutha-Sucka. The bullet entered just below his knee and exited out his left eye. Blood and gooey stuff splattered on his friend, the dolomite lookin’ Mutha-Sucka.

Quickly, I jumped up and kicked the other man in the face. Jackie Chan would have been a proud Mutha-Sucka. The spikes from my golf shoes tore his face completely off.

It looked like it really hurt bad, so I asked him if he wanted some of my Ju-Jube fruits. He didn’t answer.

I watched, dripping with blood as they both silently fell to the ground. I wiped my hands on my smock and threw the gun far, far, away. I took the cart and proceeded across the street.

I thought to myself, “That sucka is one dumb-ass, meat eating, garbonzo bean swallowing, pig foot chewin’, flyin’ bambino lookin’, butt scratchin’, potato salad eatin’, beer drinkin’, cole slaw gobblin’, walkin’ down the street – not knowin’ what time it is, Mutha-Sucka!”


I brought the cart back to its blessed home at the store, when Mr. Giusippe Luigi Melanoma called me to his office.

His fat bulbous ass was wedged behind his desk as he squinted at me through the blue haze of his cigar smoke. “I need you to cross the street and pick up any stray carts,” he wined. “We need to have all the carts accounted for before the end of the day.”

“I already did that, you stupid Mutha Sucka” I screamed back, blood dripping from my hands.

Don’t give me no shit and get your lazy ass to work!” He yelled with his cigar half hanging from his mouth. “And wash your fucking hands for Gods sake.”

Since I had an hour left on my one hour shift, I knew this would be pretty easy.

He dismissed me by farting. I bowed.

“I love that man,” I thought to myself. “F*ck you,” I said outloud.

“Get the f*ck outta here!” he said,as he scratched a scab just above his butt.

Chapter 5 – The Homecoming

I left the store and approached the street. The cars were moving back and forth. Sometimes they stop, sometimes they go.

“This is very strange,” I screamed. I had to figure out a way to cross this path of tar. I did it before, but how? I just couldn’t remember.

Zip this way, zip that way. It was crazy. I looked closely at the cars and noticed there were people inside. What were they doing in there? I’m never inside my car.

Just then, a bird flew over the road. They all suddenly stopped going back and forth. A few minutes later, they were at it again.

I thought of an experiment. I sat and waited for another bird to fly over the road. I waited for half an hour. Suddenly, without notice, a bird flew over the road. I reached into my pocket and pulled out Bibi, my pet monkey. I threw him into the street, to see if he would make it across the street.

Bibi Chittered then a car passed over him. All that was left was a red smear in gooey stuff and a few black hairs. He’s no Bobbi-Jo,” I thought. I walked to the smear and measured its length with a tape measure. It was about a foot and a half long and one foot wide.

I ran back to where I was.

Still the cars approached. Another bird flew by, but the cars didn’t stop. I realized there was no pattern.

I ran across the street and made it to the other side.

Looking for more carts, I soon realized there were no more carts on this side of the street. Now I was ready to make another mad dash to the other side. “These cars are confusing, I have one but I just don’t know how to use it’” I thought.

I was just about to cross the street when I heard a familiar chatter.

It was…

Oh, man. You won’t believe this…

It was…


Chapter 6 – BOBBI-JO Returns!

I looked at the fool. The stupid bastard who flushed me down the toilet. Life was hell after that, as you know from Chapter 2. I can only blame it one one person…that stupid Mutha-Suckin’ dumb ass…

“Hey dip-shit,” I screamed. “Do you remember me?”

He looked up with his typically moronic expression. I knew it would be hard to get a thought through his thick moronic deformed bullum-head, deformed skull.

“Hey!” I screamed again. “Answer me when I talk to you!”

Then It dawned on me that he could not understand what I was saying, because he could not speak my language. The language of the supreme, the language of ferrets. And I, in all my splendor, could not speak his language.

I decided to lay the smack-down on his ass.

I decided to kill him.

I slowly advanced from the sewer to where he was standing. He had a happy smile on his face. The shopping cart wielding fool didn’t even try to retreat. He had no idea, what was about to happen. He smiled at me with glee.

He was such an idiot…I knew then I could not harm him.

He was too innocent.

I loved him too much.



“Screw this, I thought. The little prick flushed me down the toilet.”

I spoketh again.

“Since thee flushethed meeith downeth the toilette and I greweth to a humonguth size, I must par-take of thy flesh.”

The little prick did openeth his arms widely and screamethed to me in an idiot’s glee, “Bobbi-Joooooooo!”

My heart did warmeth as I pondered on all the good times we had. Bad times too. But the good times outweighed the bad. I should not hate this idiot child, for he knows not what he does. I could not supress the huge grin that overcame my face and heart.

Still, I ate the F*cker.

Originally posted on 05/05/2000


More Humor Stories…

Stephen Johnson

The idea of building a website with Bob came from Stephen in the days of message boards and chat rooms. We settled on the name and the rest is history. Retired since he hit the ripe age of 25, he spends most his time doing odd-jobs around the house and digging thru trash bins for "stuff that's still good." Stephen has contributed several short stories and hosted the "Lunatic Ravings" column since the beginning (1999). The idea of writing weekly columns came from Stephen before blogs or blog sites ever existed. So, I guess that makes him THE FIRST BLOGGER IN THE WORLD!!!

2 thoughts on “The Legend of Bobbi-Jo

  1. This made no sense at all……so why did I laugh thru the whole thing?

    These two should never write another story ever again.

  2. Your words are hurtful….to someone who cares. Which is not me. But hey, thanks for reading it!

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