One day Bob woke up slowly like a drool Southern drawl. The air lay heavy and sticky on him like Ol’ Poppa Bob’s BBQ sauce on a buffalo wing.

“Well I’ll be,” said Bob, chock full o’ local color - black ink, in this particular incarnation. As a rule, Bob tried to ignore his surroundings, unless of course said surroundings involved doughnuts. In fact, one time Bob was offered an opportunity to actually be surrounded by a doughnut, but it turned out to be a cruel misnomer attached to flotation devices by the lifeguards at the local water park which, again, was a sad misnomer, or perhaps more appropriately, a psad pseudo-homonym, for Bob had actually traveled to the water park in search of one of those new-fangled water picks, recommended by 5 out of 7 Dentists, but only on Tuesdays and Thursdays and the week following Rosh Hashanah. Bob was ruefully tricked into buying a weeklong pass for the water slides by a sinister 17 year old tart attempting to sell the most passes and win a stuffed Taz™ doll which was, as she was overheard saying at the Orange Julius in the mall while Bob was following her some weeks after the fiasco, “ohmygodsocute.” The tragedy of the water park situation being, besides the prolonged detriment to Bob’s dental health, Bob could not swim, seeing as every time he got wet he wrinkled up and bled. The booth attendant, she of bleached hair, bejeweled bellybutton, bubblegummed mouth, and bedeviled soul, was nonplused about Bob’s tender situation and sold him the pass which he then had to use within the next seven consecutive days no refunds no sharing no do-overs. Bob felt that at least he could go down the slide face first and try to clean his teeth in the water, but he nearly drownded and was subjected to the double humility of being told in front of everybody to get a do-nut (as those infidels would spell it) and then not being able to sup upon the similarly named ambrosiatic treat.

“I’m hungry,” interrupted Bob. So he called for his mo-ped, Skippy, and beat it down to the corner doughnut shop whereupon entering was informed that all the doughnuts they had left were maple bars.

Bob died.

Life is infinitely sad.