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| A Pathetic Bob Christmas Story | |
| By Emmuttmax | ||||||||||||||||
| 13 June 2008 | ||||||||||||||||
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It's 99 degrees (F) here in Texas so I thought a Christmas story would be appropriate.
A Pathetic Bob Christmas Story
I’ve been trying to get festive. According to the song it’s supposed to be “The most wonderful time of the year,” so Pathetic Bob and I decided to go out in the real world today and see what was so damn wonderful. I put Bob’s guide-dog outfit on him, grabbed my white cane and dark glasses, and we hopped in the car and began our Christmas cruise. Our first stop was North Star Mall, the largest mall in town. As we were doing the blind-man-and-dog stroll (an unfortunate ruse we must perpetrate or else Bob would not be allowed inside), we came across a gaggle of little children standing in line to have their pictures taken with Santa Claus and tell him all the useless crap they wanted for Christmas. “Hey Mike,” said Bob excitedly, “Who are those little people?” “They’re kids, Bob.” “Very funny mistletoe breath, I know they are kids. Who are those other little people?” “Well Bob, they are dwarves, also known as little people. They are dressed up to look like elves, mythical little toymakers who serve their bearded master.” “Can we go meet one? Can we? Can we?” Bob whined. “I don’t think so Bob. They’re busy working. Maybe after Christmas, when they’ve been laid off.” “You mean once Christmas is over, all the dwarves will be unemployed?” “I was just kidding,” I said “”Well,” shot back Bob, “you shouldn’t kid about stuff like that.” He circled the Santa exhibit, and then came back and sat next to me on one of the benches. “You know Mike, I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I think you could be right. It seems the only time you see dwarves is at Christmas time and in fantasy movies. It just doesn’t seem right. I mean they are just short people right?” “That’s true Bob.” “Well, Tom Cruise is short, and he’s a flaming nut case, too, but he’s in movies year round. I’m getting a little pissed. I don’t like dwarves being exploited this way. I have to do something.” “But Bo….” Before I could finish my sentence, Bob ran off and darted through the mass of children and jumped and Santa Claus’ lap. I couldn’t hear the conversation, but suddenly Bob yanked the fat guy’s beard off and let out a menacing growl. Next thing I knew a posse of mall security droids swarmed the Santa exhibit. I dashed over and busted through the wall of mall caps to defend Bob. I picked him up and made a beeline for the exit; we almost made it. Unfortunately, I tripped over a very old woman in a wheelchair, and the security guys grabbed us. Pathetic Bob and I were taken deep into the bowels of the mall and held for questioning in brightly lit, small room that had a one-way mirror. “Dammit Bob, look what you’ve done. Now we’ll probably end up in jail and the pound.” “Just calm down,” Bob said. “Invoke your right to silence. I’ll do the talking.” Just then, the door slammed open, and in walked a uniformed mall Nazi with wire-rimmed glasses and a gut bigger than Santa’s. “Well, well, well,” he said sarcastically, “so you like to impersonate a blind person and have your dog attack people. Well mister, that don’t fly around here.” “But officer,” I began but never finished because Bob butted in. “Hush Mike,” he baked. Turning to the guard, he said, “Look Barney Fife, we know our rights. We want a lawyer.” Bob just loves cop shows. The security guy stopped in his tracks, shaken. He looked at me and said, “That dog can talk.” “Of course I can talk scrotum gut, now let me talk to your boss,” demanded Bob. The guard retreated from the room, and a few minutes later the door opened, and in walked…a dwarf. He was dressed in an Armani suit and carried a two-way radio. Pathetic Bob turned to me and grinned from ear to ear. Bob explained to the dwarf, who happened to be the security chief, the whole incident was a misunderstanding and he was just trying to stand up for human dignity. Mr. Belamario, the chief, just nodded, looking at me from time to time. When Bob finished his oration, he wasn’t sure the chief was buying what he had to say so he turned and pointed at me and said, “It’s all his fault.” Luckily, Mr. Balermario had a sense of humor, and he let Bob and me off. Before he had us escorted from the mall (with instructions we were never to return), he pulled Bob aside and had a few words with him. Once we were safely back in the car, I asked Bob what Mr. B told him. “He told me that if I ever got tired of living with you, he and his wife would gladly take me in.” He then added, “It is a wonderful time of the year, isn’t it Mike?” (c) 2007
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