Saturday, May 28, 2011

BoBo Goes on Vacation

Bob sighed, relieved to finally be home to his modest single wide. He jingled his keys huffing as his gut fell just below his Hawaiian shirt. His dog began to bark for its owner inside.

Bob was a middle aged man, balding, overweight and bespectacled; though this wasn't necessarily what he saw the mirror when he entered the bathroom. "Today's the day, BoBo" said the clown, luminescent, in front of the shaving cream and prescription medication in his medicine cabinet. Bob mumbled in agreement, penis in hand, as he emptied his bladder. It sure feels great to be home.

Bob walked out of his bathroom and over the dog, still barking. The Pomeranian obviously didn't know Bob was its new owner, but all that will change.

Bob took the cheap Xerox he found and placed it next to the empty cans of Pabst on the little linoleum dining only really big enough for one. Bob's small trailer didn't bug Bob much. Bob never had company over. Bob slowly unbuttoned his Hawaiian shirt, covered in hula girls, ones like you would see in old fashioned tattoos. He then kicked his shoes off, then rubbed his socks off his feet then finally let his slacks fall to his ankles. It sure feels great to be home he thought.

Bob, naked, walked the few feet to his fridge and opened it. Bob saw some day old Chinese food, a jar of Dijon mustard and a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon. It only had three left in it. I'll get some more on the way there, bob thought, and then get some food on the way back. Bob took the last three beers and the Xerox and walked to his room.

He had drunk the first one by the time he had walked through his bedroom door and got the Pomeranian to shut the fuck up. This Bob's most valued time and he wanted it to be perfect. Bob sat the beers and the Xerox on the make up table and sat down on his padded folding chair. In the spotlight framed mirror, Bob could see how he looked and watch himself transform into what he really was. Bob began to apply his make up, first a base of white, then blue around the eyes, then red around his mouth, arranged into corners up to his nose, accentuating his cheeks and all the way down to his chin. He saw a clown sporting a malicious grin in the mirror.

Then noticed his erection, and mimed surprise. He drank another beer, idly playing with his penis. Bob was now fully erect, and ready. The clown in the mirror concurred. “It’s show time, BoBo”.

Bob stood up in his chair and turned around to see a naked woman lying in his stained bad sheets.

“I didn’t see you there Susan” Bob said, feigning embarrassment, still lazily jerking off.

Susan said nothing, she just smiled and opened her legs, her thighs almost yawning, calling Bob to her.

“Well, don’t mind if I do, Susan”


Bob sat on the bed, cleaning his make up off his face with one hand, drinking the last beer and smoking a cigarette with his other. He looked at the Xerox and then the blowup dolls head next to it. He turned his head the other way and saw his semen lazily drip out of the pussy hole between its inflated vinyl legs.

The Pomeranian was barking the whole time he did it, but Bob was pretty sure that was the best nut he’s busted in a while. His dick was a little sore, but a good kind of sore. After he got through the second Marlboro red, he came back to earth, the dog still barking furiously at him, it’s body jumping back as it yapped at Bob.

“Oh shut the fuck up...” Bob realized he didn’t know the dog’s name.

He put his beer down and grabbed the Xerox photocopy next to the blowup doll and looked at it through the glasses he just put back on.


CALL SUSAN, (907) 338-6121

Just under ‘missing dog’ was Susan, a blond woman, mid-thirties, holding fluffy in the frame of the picture.

Bob took a shower, put his best Hawaiian shirt on, (a classy number with cubist palm trees on it) and then took fluffy into his Subaru station wagon.

“You’re going to be fine” BoBo the clown said reassuringly, gleaming from the rear view mirror, back at Bob.

Bob dialed the number.

Smell that Barbeque
Big Mike.

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