bobbyburns
New Member
BINK! BANK! BUNK!
put that in your pipe and smoke it.
put that in your pipe and smoke it.
-
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1002 Things To Do With a bobbyburns
- Thread starter novella
- Start date
bobbyburns
New Member
weakies! thanks, ma! yay!yay!yay!yay!yay!yay!yay!yay!yay!yay!
novella
Active Member
My New bobbaquarium
(No, this thread will not go gently into that good night . . . )
All the cats have been mewling nonstop at the window since I installed by new bobbaquarium in the dining room this weekend. I think they can smell him from outside, that little tuna-ish smell, because I’ve been keeping the shade drawn to ease the strain on his eyes, so I'm pretty sure they can't see him. But cats are smart and dumb at the same time, so you never know.
Anyway, I really splashed out and put in a full-wall model with ultraviolet light that makes the white bits of his eyes glow in the dark, and I put rainbow-colored gravel on the bottom, with a tiny coral reef for him to gaze at and a greenish rock that looks cool.
I’ve been trying to keep the room dark so that I can watch him in his natural habitat. It’s better that way, because during daylight hours he tries to move as little as possible and blend into the gravel (as if I would forget that he's there, duh), though the rainbow colors of the rocks make that a little tricky.
So far, he has been real happy with toast crumbs from the counter and occasional meat, like a piece of bacon or a mouse, but if any one has any recipes they would like share, I’m eager to hear them!
Want to start a club? I can keep records of the activities.
(No, this thread will not go gently into that good night . . . )
All the cats have been mewling nonstop at the window since I installed by new bobbaquarium in the dining room this weekend. I think they can smell him from outside, that little tuna-ish smell, because I’ve been keeping the shade drawn to ease the strain on his eyes, so I'm pretty sure they can't see him. But cats are smart and dumb at the same time, so you never know.
Anyway, I really splashed out and put in a full-wall model with ultraviolet light that makes the white bits of his eyes glow in the dark, and I put rainbow-colored gravel on the bottom, with a tiny coral reef for him to gaze at and a greenish rock that looks cool.
I’ve been trying to keep the room dark so that I can watch him in his natural habitat. It’s better that way, because during daylight hours he tries to move as little as possible and blend into the gravel (as if I would forget that he's there, duh), though the rainbow colors of the rocks make that a little tricky.
So far, he has been real happy with toast crumbs from the counter and occasional meat, like a piece of bacon or a mouse, but if any one has any recipes they would like share, I’m eager to hear them!
Want to start a club? I can keep records of the activities.
bobbyburns
New Member
want to see my weenis?
bobbyburns
New Member
isn't it rad?
bobbyburns
New Member
c'mon, check that shit out.
bobbyburns
New Member
because three inches is an awfully long wang.
novella
Active Member
A Sad and Lonely Tale
Aisle four, the public library, a small village in Forumshire. A young lady peruses the shelves.
“Hmm, what’s this? ‘The Life and Times of bobbyburns, a strange and lonely tale.’ What a mysterious book. Why would someone put a picture of a big hairy leg in a black sock on the cover? Hmmmm. . . . let’s see what’s inside . . .”
Chapter One: I Find Myself Alive
I was delivered to my mother on a hospital breakfast tray.
“Jell-O again,” she groaned, pushing me aside and turning back to the Belmont Stakes on the overhead television, a contest in which she had $40 riding on a long-shot 57-1, inauspiciously named Bobby Burns. I yearned in my newborn self for the TV to be tilted a little more in my direction. I heard my first gunshot as the ponies left the gate.
As fate would have it, Nurse Boils entered the room with her clipboard just as mother hit the jackpot. The poor clodheaded nurse mistook mothers cry for joy, “God bless you, bobbyburns!” as a naming ceremony, and so I was christened, after a chestnut yearling who would stumble later that season and be put down, leaving me to carry on the family name.
The next day I was brought home to Beef Stew Lane in a 1977 purple Camaro with a white racing stripe and stored in the basement freezer for three years until science was equipped to deal with me and my parents needed the freezer space for a haunch of venison given to dad as a small bribe in exchange for a professional favor.
When I had sufficiently thawed, and a puddle had formed under my woefully undeveloped corpus, I asked my mother what I should become. “What shall I do with my life, mother?” said I.
“Here’s a packet of 60 colored markers, kid,” she said. “We’ll be back later. Don't eat all the sugar.” And so my formal education had begun.
(to be continued)
Aisle four, the public library, a small village in Forumshire. A young lady peruses the shelves.
“Hmm, what’s this? ‘The Life and Times of bobbyburns, a strange and lonely tale.’ What a mysterious book. Why would someone put a picture of a big hairy leg in a black sock on the cover? Hmmmm. . . . let’s see what’s inside . . .”
Chapter One: I Find Myself Alive
I was delivered to my mother on a hospital breakfast tray.
“Jell-O again,” she groaned, pushing me aside and turning back to the Belmont Stakes on the overhead television, a contest in which she had $40 riding on a long-shot 57-1, inauspiciously named Bobby Burns. I yearned in my newborn self for the TV to be tilted a little more in my direction. I heard my first gunshot as the ponies left the gate.
As fate would have it, Nurse Boils entered the room with her clipboard just as mother hit the jackpot. The poor clodheaded nurse mistook mothers cry for joy, “God bless you, bobbyburns!” as a naming ceremony, and so I was christened, after a chestnut yearling who would stumble later that season and be put down, leaving me to carry on the family name.
The next day I was brought home to Beef Stew Lane in a 1977 purple Camaro with a white racing stripe and stored in the basement freezer for three years until science was equipped to deal with me and my parents needed the freezer space for a haunch of venison given to dad as a small bribe in exchange for a professional favor.
When I had sufficiently thawed, and a puddle had formed under my woefully undeveloped corpus, I asked my mother what I should become. “What shall I do with my life, mother?” said I.
“Here’s a packet of 60 colored markers, kid,” she said. “We’ll be back later. Don't eat all the sugar.” And so my formal education had begun.
(to be continued)
novella
Active Member
"The Blobbyburns" a screenplay starring Steve the Queen
Just when I thought I was free, it pulled me back in . . .
***********************************************
“The Blobbyburns”
a screenplay, starring Steve the Queen
Scene: 1958, the backroom of a barbershop in Wisconsin. Two teenagers are leaning against a big sink smoking ciggies and scuffing their saddleshoes on the linoleum.
Suck suck suck suck.
“Do you hear something Cindy?”
“Quit it, Joey.” Suck suck suck. “Quit making that noise. It’s creepy.”
“It’s not me, Cindy. It’s coming from the . . . .AHHHHHHHH!”
Teens get sucked into the drain by a big blob of green jelly.
*********************
A house somewhere
A blowsy woman swigs from a half-full bottle of Crème de Menthe and belches delicately. Her form is arrayed decoratively on a brown corduroy couch with orange pillows.
Unseen interviewer: “What can you tell me about your son, Mrs. Burns?”
“Oh, he was always different. I remember when they brought him to me in the maternity ward. I thought he was the breakfast Jell-O. I should’ve eaten it right there.” Swig swig. “Then we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Swig swig. Green drips on chin.
“Tell us about the last time you saw him?”
“Oh, gee, it must’ve been Spring of '56 because Needles had just won the Kentucky Derby. Came in 7 to 1. So I had a Jackson burning a hole in my little old handbag, know what I mean? I looked at bobby, shimmering in the corner—he was never a demanding child-- and decided to go down to the Golden Bastard for a coupla drinkie-poos. He was just . . .there . . like a . . .blob, I guess. Burp.”
“And then?”
Swiggles swig swig. “Well, then I guess he decided to ooze out on his own. That’s when he started eating Cheesedale. Started with Amy Softcushions. He oozed through her bedroom window. I guess that’s not surprising.” Swig swig. “She was rather attractive. Urp. Will I get paid for this?”
Just when I thought I was free, it pulled me back in . . .
***********************************************
“The Blobbyburns”
a screenplay, starring Steve the Queen
Scene: 1958, the backroom of a barbershop in Wisconsin. Two teenagers are leaning against a big sink smoking ciggies and scuffing their saddleshoes on the linoleum.
Suck suck suck suck.
“Do you hear something Cindy?”
“Quit it, Joey.” Suck suck suck. “Quit making that noise. It’s creepy.”
“It’s not me, Cindy. It’s coming from the . . . .AHHHHHHHH!”
Teens get sucked into the drain by a big blob of green jelly.
*********************
A house somewhere
A blowsy woman swigs from a half-full bottle of Crème de Menthe and belches delicately. Her form is arrayed decoratively on a brown corduroy couch with orange pillows.
Unseen interviewer: “What can you tell me about your son, Mrs. Burns?”
“Oh, he was always different. I remember when they brought him to me in the maternity ward. I thought he was the breakfast Jell-O. I should’ve eaten it right there.” Swig swig. “Then we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Swig swig. Green drips on chin.
“Tell us about the last time you saw him?”
“Oh, gee, it must’ve been Spring of '56 because Needles had just won the Kentucky Derby. Came in 7 to 1. So I had a Jackson burning a hole in my little old handbag, know what I mean? I looked at bobby, shimmering in the corner—he was never a demanding child-- and decided to go down to the Golden Bastard for a coupla drinkie-poos. He was just . . .there . . like a . . .blob, I guess. Burp.”
“And then?”
Swiggles swig swig. “Well, then I guess he decided to ooze out on his own. That’s when he started eating Cheesedale. Started with Amy Softcushions. He oozed through her bedroom window. I guess that’s not surprising.” Swig swig. “She was rather attractive. Urp. Will I get paid for this?”
bobbyburns
New Member
I'm tempted to put a stick of dynamite in my computer.
novella
Active Member
Morning Exercise. Everyone must attend!!
Yoger, with bobbyburns
“Good morning, forum acolytes. My name is bobbyburns and I’ll be your guru. You may call me Master. Would everyone please take their places?”
Shuffle shuffle.
“I would like the people with large cans to move to the back, please. Yes, you. And you, the one with the ears. That’s it. I find this arrangement promotes harmony and enthusiasm. Presenting one’s neighbor with the most pleasant view, yes? Small tushies to the front. That’s it.”
Shuffle shuffle.
“Okay now. Are we composed? With me, everyone, I would like you to take a deep breath and then fall to the ground as though you have been hit in the knee with a bullet.”
“What caliber, Master?”
“A big bullet, grasshopper. The exploding kind.”
Crumple. Crash. Moans.
“Ouch. Get off my ankle, Freya.”
“Shut up.”
“Ahem. Now, from this random position, I would like you to greet the sun with the back of your thighs. Just say, Hello Mr. Sun. That’s it. Lady with eyepatch, you are not trying. That’s it. Reach up there with the thigh. Higher.”
Urgh, Ugh. Ach.
“Master, my neighbor with the medium ass in plaid pants has passed out.”
“He’s merely reached a higher plane. Notice the serenity on his face.”
“But Master, he’s drooling on my mat. Ew.”
“It’s all part of the cleansing process. May we all get there eventually, blessed acolytes. Now we will try the Frankenstretch. Extend your arms in front of you. Stretch stretch stretch. And repeat the mantra, Friend. Friend. Friend. Excellent.”
“Master, I think I sprained my head.”
“Rise above it, novella. We are not in the coddling business.”
Yoger, with bobbyburns
“Good morning, forum acolytes. My name is bobbyburns and I’ll be your guru. You may call me Master. Would everyone please take their places?”
Shuffle shuffle.
“I would like the people with large cans to move to the back, please. Yes, you. And you, the one with the ears. That’s it. I find this arrangement promotes harmony and enthusiasm. Presenting one’s neighbor with the most pleasant view, yes? Small tushies to the front. That’s it.”
Shuffle shuffle.
“Okay now. Are we composed? With me, everyone, I would like you to take a deep breath and then fall to the ground as though you have been hit in the knee with a bullet.”
“What caliber, Master?”
“A big bullet, grasshopper. The exploding kind.”
Crumple. Crash. Moans.
“Ouch. Get off my ankle, Freya.”
“Shut up.”
“Ahem. Now, from this random position, I would like you to greet the sun with the back of your thighs. Just say, Hello Mr. Sun. That’s it. Lady with eyepatch, you are not trying. That’s it. Reach up there with the thigh. Higher.”
Urgh, Ugh. Ach.
“Master, my neighbor with the medium ass in plaid pants has passed out.”
“He’s merely reached a higher plane. Notice the serenity on his face.”
“But Master, he’s drooling on my mat. Ew.”
“It’s all part of the cleansing process. May we all get there eventually, blessed acolytes. Now we will try the Frankenstretch. Extend your arms in front of you. Stretch stretch stretch. And repeat the mantra, Friend. Friend. Friend. Excellent.”
“Master, I think I sprained my head.”
“Rise above it, novella. We are not in the coddling business.”
bobbyburns
New Member
me too, except I'm not sure what the **** that last one meant.
bobbyburns
New Member
yeah, well I'm starting to feel like the straw is slurping at the bottom of the cup.