No Dream, No Return, No Rust

A while ago, when my palatial estate was getting fumigated since I had an abundance of black widow spiders and ocelots roaming around the house, I asked Bob if I could camp out in his basement for a day or so.

Of course he said yes or I would have delivered a roundhouse kick to his tiny head.

It wasn’t a finished basement, but it did have a pee hole in one of the corners. Weird thing was that he didn’t know about this pee hole, probably because he drank a lot.

The first day there he offered me a piece of beef jerky from a pack and I thanked him and took the whole thing. I could swear I saw a tear dribble down his cheek as I ate the whole pound bag, but it was so long ago that I could be mistaken.

Nice guy that he is, he went out the next day and picked up more beef jerky and family size macaroni and cheese (but not the good stuff). I thanked him again and grabbed the beef jerky and mac & cheese from the cupboard and had myself a nice snack.

The next day he didn’t pick up anything which really annoyed me. I was a guest and there was nothing to eat in the house. Sure, there was alcohol and I drank all of it, but I really wanted the food.

I told him he had to go and get something edible and not to bother to come back until he did. He eventually did come back, this time with a garbage bag full of ditch weed.

I guess he decided it would be funny to smoke the whole bag by himself, just so he could teach me a lesson. Well, he got really sick from that ditch weed and came downstairs to complain. Then he began to heave and I refused to tell him about the pee hole in the corner so he ran upstairs and vomited all over the kitchen.

I left the next day, mostly due to the smell but also the lack of food. Funny thing is that he never found out about the pee hole and it’s now covered with carpet in his finished basement.

Hey, Bob. Now you know what that smell is.

And I’m still not going to tell you where that hole is.




RIP G