A Quest For An Answer: Part 3

More Lunatic Ravings…

Black Country Communion—2

MoTW—Conquest

Thinking it was gun, I ducked and then bobbed and weaved for awhile,
figuring (yet again) that he wouldn’t be stable enough to hit something
that was ducking, bobbing and weaving.

When no gunshots rang out, I stopped my ducking, bobbing and weaving and
took in the scene.

There was Bob, muttering “Unnnngh” and waving something that wasn’t a
gun but an old white sock. There were also bubbles coming out of his
mouth and nose.

I pranced back to the desk and dipped my finger into the pile of white
powder and, just as the professionals on tv and the movies do, I stuck
the finger it my mouth.

Now, don’t want the kiddies to get the wrong impression here. I have
never, and I mean NEVER, have tasted cocaine before but I could have
told you right then and there that this big pile of white powder was not
coke. No “Scarface” moment here, folks.

Nope, what we had here was a tall midget THINKING he was a gangster,
which is what he always does on laundry day. When the wife and kids are
away, Bob will play.

Really though, what’s wrong with that? What’s wrong with fantasizing
that you’re a movie gangster? What’s wrong with using laundry detergent
as a substitute for coke?

In Bob’s world, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.

A couple of slaps to his face later and he departed his fantasy. Instead
of a coked-up gangster, I had the old, short, stubby Mexican known as
Bob.

As he laughed about what happened and I cringed inwardly and thought how
pathetic he really, truly is, I almost forgot about the reason I had
ventured into the deepest darkest hell known as Nebraska.

I grabbed a odd-named beer from his fridge because he only drinks
odd-named beers and then questioned him on why he wouldn’t let the woman
and I stay over at his abode for our yearly vacation.

Before I get to his answer, I must let it be known that Bob has really
shifty eyes.

REALLY

SHIFTY.

So when he said that he wanted us to stay over but his wife said we
couldn’t because I was smelly and was a bad influence, I knew that it
was a lie.

But why?

Why would Bob lie and try to ruin our vacation?

Then I had an idea. An idea that would net me the truth.

(NOTE: I am not dead, even though Bob thinks/wishes I were. Especially
now since I’m going to divulge the truth.)

COMING NEXT: When I stated that I was going to divulge the truth now, I
didn’t mean NOW now.

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 TheWeirdcrap.com 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 beggining. The idea of writing weekly columns (blogs didn't exist yet) also came from Stephen. So I guess that makes him the creator of the "blog" phenomena.

https://theweirdcrap.com

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