g,day i am from the outback and eery on epicks on me. what should i do bob.
I feel your pain, in fact just this week Stephen's old lady left him alone for the weekend. This happens every so often and it really makes me worry, because Stephen is not capable of complicated tasks. Things we take for granted, such as operating a stove or a microwave is really hard for him. Usually the ol’ lady leaves crackers and dry cereal in open containers for him to munch on.
Then, Saturday I got to thinking that if she left some of those new-fangled packages that are a cross between foil and plastic, he may not be able to rip them open with his hands, and since scissors are kept out of his reach he might be sitting on his kitchen floor as I write this, crying for food.
I knew I had to do something, so I decided to call and make sure he was OK. He picked up the phone, but I couldn’t get him to talk. All I could hear was the stereo playing full blast and grunting noises. Then I heard the phone drop to the floor. It sounded like he was tossing it around the room, while making high pitch monkey-like sounds – then the phone went dead.
I figured he must have had trouble getting to food and now he was delirious from hunger. I called Jerome and asked him to go check on Stephen.
Then I got a call from Jerome who kept saying over and over, “The horror. The horror. The horror…”
A few hours later Jerome snapped out of it and assured me Stephen was alive…ALIVE!!! As usual, I required Jerome to provide me a written report of his findings and this is what he came up with:
When I got to Stephen's crib, I noticed is his front door had been removed. He had cut a big arch with a chain saw to simulate a cave enterance.
walked in and couldn't see a darn thing. All I could hear was a "Devo" Long Playing record skipping over, “Whip-it, whip it good…”I hate Devo, so I smashed the record player with a baseball bat that was leaning against the wall. When my eyes adjusted to the dark, I also saw a soccer ball with a face painted on it with eye-liner.
Then I looked around and saw that Stephen had cut out most of the of the walls in his apartment, so it was one big room. There was plaster all over the floor and crap hangin down from the roof.
Then I heard Stephen speak, “Mr. Wilson! M
r. Wilson, is that you?”
I looked to the right corner of the “room” where the bathroom used to be, and there I saw Stephen drinking out of the toilet, shouting for “Mr. Wilson.”
The inside of the room was painted a dark brown to make it look like a cave. He also covered the windows with blankets.
I tore one of the blankets off the window and
noticed he had drawn a series of pictures on the walls. Here’s a photo of one of the pictures…
I tossed him a box of Ritz crackers and left to report back to Bob.
So at least Stephen wasn't starving. I concluded that he got drunk, put on the Devo record which proceeded to skip over and over. As we all know, “Devo” stands for “De-Evolution”. I guess it worked, the record kept playing over and over until Stephen “De-Evolved” into a cave-man.
Not much of a difference, really.
The only answer was to get a female over to his place as soon as possible. I was sure the smell of potpourri and flowers should snap him out of it. I tried to call a nice resident from “Crack-Whore-Village.” Since Stephen ownes the complex, I figured they’d be more than eager to help him out!
This was the conversation:
Operator: "This is Flo. How can I help you today?"
Me: "I got sticky hands... "
Flo: "Can I help you?!"
Me: "I got STICKY hands...sluuuuuurrp."
Flo: "Is there something I can do for you?"
Me: "I got STICKY HANDS...sluuuuurrp-aaaaaaahhhh."
Flo: "You can just EAT MY SHORTS!" - A polite disconnect followed.
I don't know why she responded that way, but maybe I had the wrong number. I was drunk at the time and the top of my ice cream cone had just fell on the floor. I was holding the ice cream in my hand when I called.
I hope this answered your question.
And now you know.
Coming up: Mangos for everyone!
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