One day, Bob woke up torn asunder. The ink-soaked sheets clung to his lifeless body.
"Damn," Bob said.
Bob pulled himself together and got out of bed. The first thing he noticed, besides the fact that his new shag carpet was ruined, was the light feeling in his intestinal area.
"Maybe it's just the butterfly shrimp I ate for dinner," supposed Bob to, besides you, nobody in particular. But when he, upon closer inspection, inspected his middling regions more closely, Bob was not a little surprised to find his guts missing.
"That's strange," thought Bob, "I could have swore those were there last night."
Bob checked his upper and nether regions, but naught was to be found. He looked in the bathroom to see if his intestines had been moved there. Sadly, there was only a dead clown in the bathtub.
"I'm at a loss," said Bob, standing on the bathroom scale. "Where could my most noble of internal aides have gone?" he ciceroed.
There was no answer.
"Fie!" Bob cried. "My insides must no longer lie idly by as I ceaselessly rhetoricize."
Sigh. Bob quickly tir-, grew weary. Regardless of what the diet guru at the corner monastery said, Bob found it decidedly difficult to live without his gut.
Bob felt an interminable outside force driving him to mount his mo-ped, Skippy, and undertake some grand quest in the name of verisimilitude. However Bob's moral firmness and, at this point, theoretical intestinal fortitude fought the fickle manipulations of whatever celestial clockmaker guided him, for Bob had just revamped his wardrobe to consist of merely haltertops and hot pants, and there was no way, uh-uh, he was going outside in those clothes without his belly.
Excuse me a moment.
Bob really should have got on his mo-ped, Skippy.
"I don't want to," Bob said difficultly, though not with difficulty.
If Bob didn't get his butt out there, there was no telling what the gods might have in store for him.
"It doesn't matter. I'll do what I please, and right now I please to stay inside and search for my innards," stated Bob like a big jerk fathead.
"Nice simile," opined Bob.
Suddenly, without any warning, the heavens split open and, as the dark clouds of chaos descended to engulf the pitiful excuses of humanity below, demons and hellspawn burst forth from an even lower below, devouring all in their paths like some kind of voracious demons and hellspawn.
Bob turned his back and impatiently tapped the unified toes of his right foot as one.
While death and destruction reigned outside, Bob slowly walked towards the bookcase. He stopped in front of the bookcase. He searched for the encyclopedia that the odd man with the eyepatch, the scar across his face stretching from the right temple to the left corner of the jaw, and the slight stutter with the letter 'e' had sold him the other day.
He found the encyclopedia, a single thin tome, and opened to the "b" section for "Bob's Intestines." The article under the heading simply stated, "Please visit our Web site for all the information you are seeking," as did all the other articles.
"Hmm," sounded Bob, "there's an idea."
Using his Buddha-like meditative powers and the Scarlet Amulet of Rankanor, in an ancient, mystical ritual Bob tapped into the World Wide Web. Stimulating more excitement than a pack of rabid hyenas in a Nordstrom's, Bob entered his topic and "clicked on" the search "button." For the first time in his life, though he had often dreamed of it, Bob got quick results. Bob's search came up with 500 porn sites and 30 sites for companies in Texas that would sell him some human kidneys, fast.
This was not what Bob wanted, at least not right now.
"What the hay."
Bob looked at several of the adult-themed sites and was surprised to see the same thing on each: stark photos of his glorious mid-section and really great rates on airline tickets. Bob felt violated yet empowered, naked yet frugal, betrayed yet hungry. Yes, despite the fact that Bob lacked yards and yards of intestines, he still felt that he contained multitudes.
" ," Bob tacitly agreed.
Then Bob died.
The rest of this page has been left intentionally blank. - The Author