somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. Bob was confused again.
Bob's eyes, a lovely twinkling blue, also had a rather blank stare.
He had undergone lazer eye surgery,that morning,to correct his astigmatism
"look" he yelled towards the sunrise "big light in sky, it will frighten the minorities!" Bob was a dunderhead.
But he was a fine-smelling dunderhead, as he had just massaged himself all over with Spring Mountain Bounce dryer sheets.
so Bob duct taped some charcoal briquittes under each armpit, sprayed some febreeze behind his ears and was ready for his first date.
He knew that the ladies love charcoal briquettes, so he lit one while waiting for his date to arrive.
that Bob guy, he was really hot to trot and trot he did across the burning sands, of time. "So now whose gonna sleep on the wet spot?" he asked himself. Bob had plans.
But on the burning sands, time stood still. Bob realized that his feet hurt. Ouchie, he said, to no one in particular.
Ah, but someone in particular did hear Bob. Out of the undulating heat waves emerged...Mr. Thatcher.
"How dare you steal my Bounce dryer sheets and charcoal briquettes!" he yelled, his .357 Magnum just inches from Bob's nether regions. Bob gasped, and a briquette fell from one of his armpits. It made a squunchy sound and then there was silence.
It was like the silence of the hams, Bob's hams. There he stood, all decked out and no place to go. Damn, if he didn't really need someplace to go. He went right there on someone else's shoes. "Sorry about that' he said "but I suffer from combat related bowel movements, it's kinda a post-traumatic distress syndrome thingy, here let me wipe off your shoes."
A Bounce dryer sheet fluttered to the ground as Bob stooped to wipe. While he smelled fresh, he just felt oh, so, dirty. In a way, that made him feel good.
, while off in the distance, another dog, a different one than the last, barked
As Bob stared in slack-jawed wonder, a British-style phone booth suddenly appeared as though from thin air; a nubile young woman, clad in animals skins with a large knife at the belt, stepped from the phone box and grabbed his hand, saying: "Quickly now, into the TARDIS!"
hare of the hound, Bob thought remembering wistfully the rabbit stew he had for lunch that was now covering someone elses shoes "Boy, if my dogs don't bark right now" he said aloud, to no one in particular. Bob often talked aloud to no on in particular and was often seen talking to imaginary trout living in reel three of his movie of the mind. Bob was still a dunderhead.
Bob decided to go walking realizing that his date would never arive since she was only a piece of plastic that is shaped like a woman, so now he was depressed and left out the door, ignoring Mr. Thatcher and his weapon of choice.
"I said, 'Put Matilda down and turn around slowly.'" snarled Mr. Thatcher. "I won't have you dating my wife!"
"But, but, Mr. Thatcher, she's only made out of plastic." protested Bob.
"So we have a mixed marriage. I thought you'd be big enough to accept that. Our love, is, it's, well, it's taboo!" sobbed Mr. Thatcher, letting his guard down for the moment.
"There, there, it's all right." said Bob, never taking his eyes away from Thatcher's gun.
As Mr. Thatcher let his guard down, bob grabbed the hand of the nubile young woman--or so she appeared--and stepped into the tardis, wondering what he might be stepping into...or where he might wind up--the tardis was deceptively large....
"Eww!" exclaimed Bob, for he had indeed stepped into something else, and it was squishy.
