Bob was beaming with pride (and not just a litle Jim Beam) so flushed with excitment he was after all the bridge under which he was usually seen fishing had just been named after him. It was now the "Bob Bridge" "sure enough" Bob said "I would like to date your daughter but not her ugly sister."
The fury of Ol' Mr. Thatcher rose like a volcano that was about to explode. You see Mr. Thatcher only had one daughter, the ugly one so to speak was actually his gay son, but homosexuality does not go well in a southern state such as Alabama.
"Alabama" Bob gasped "Damn, I thought i was fishing the Detroit river, now I know why I only been catching mudfish" Bob was depressed and thought of travel plans to head out west, someplace like Mississippi.
Turned out that the last thing Bob remembered was being at this party with some people, they were eating and drinking merily although bob did think that the Mushrooms on the Pizza was a little bit off.
Bob, recognizing the social faux pas he had just commited, could only right this egregious offense to the Thatchesr name by offering Ol man Thatcher several of his freshly caught fish, which ,after all, were only
tilapia since no decent trout would be caught dead in Alabama.
Mr. Thatcher stuttered and then stammered. He dug his hand into his pocket..
Thatcher, still being consumed by his anger slapped the fish from Bob's hands and began to curse him, Bob thought of what he could do...
Bob yelled "But they named the bridge after me, I AM somebody"
"Don't you get it, your trying to assault a celebrity, DO YOU KNOW WHAT THEY DO TO CELEBRITY ASSAULTERS IN PRISON!!!" yelled Bob frantically
just them Bob dropped the soap but immediately made plans to get a toothbrush smuggled in that he could grind-down to make a shiv.He was smarter than the average Bob.
Eventually Bob realizes that he is wresteling with his pillow on the floor of his bedroom:"What happened," he asked out loud with a puzzled look on his face.
I will be back later for the Bob saga but my mom just came home and I have to go to my room for awhile.
Bob
ok I will continue since I am going soon.....
Bob, still puzzled began to look around to see if he can get some information about what is happening, could it be a dream or did it really happen, could it be the mescaline he smoked with his wetback buddy Carlos or could it be something else?
Alas, Bob awakes from his slumber and yet it was only a dream, although right now he seems confused...
Bob, when confused, begins to tie flys, and so doing , he relieves himself of the burdens that accrue from the fitful dreams from which he has just now arisen, although not fully awake , as he still has burned on his mind the image of the portly and homely daughter of old Mr Thatcher.
Somewhere in the distance, glass shattered, and Bob knew from the pitch and volume that it was a bottle of Chanel Number 5. He awaited the onslaught of French scent like a bear waits for a salmon.
Bob was sorely disappointed when the aroma of "Evening in Detroit" waffed accross the swooping plain. (and it was a knock-off to boot) "The horror of it all" he cried into the muffling wind.
And faintly in that muffling wind, he heard a plaintive cry, repeated a few times--which he finally realized was the sound of his nephew's nemesis saying: "Yeah, and Bob's yer uncle."
'Strange", Bob thought," my nephew died during the great baked beans famine of '96", which was also , strangely enough,' the same year that he(Bob, not his nephew, since his nephew was,by then deceased)
took up fly fishing in Alabama.'
