A tale of Bob.

I’m gonna tell a story ‘bout a nob.

I hate to have to tell you but his name is Bob.

And this how the nob named Bob lost his job.

No he wasn't fired.

However, fire was involved. So I guess in a sense Bob was fired so to speak.

Damn fool lost the whole thing.

Now Bob was riding on the forks of a fork lift. He was steering with a broom stick and had a dwarf, er um, a little person, working the pedals.

This was not a good idea.

Y’all can stop with the “Oh Noes” and “no ways” Right now.

This was a straight up what the freaking freaky p-diddy diddling anal itching crab infested nob munching dick-zastor WTF concept in the flesh, moment.

Bob also, by the way was, is oh whatever.

He’s a natural born left leaning lefty.

He is left handed and his right leg is longer than his left.

This was the result of growing up on a hill side. Regardless Bob couldn't help if he was a left leaning lefty.

He always tried to go right but he was always turned around and left out. Spent all his time running in circles.

Now nobby Bob was a survivor, mostly. Which is to say, he survived his repeated whackadoodle comeuppance parties yet tended to leave bits and pieces of himself here and there. It was his own special form of graffiti, that served as testimony of his passing by in existence.

This day however, Bob lost the job. In doing so he did leave his mark for all to see.

Bobs favorite fork lift was a nifty propane powered beast. Key word there, was. Did you know that a inflamed little person will leave skid marks on a concrete floor and a larger than life impression in drywall?

Bob however spread himself sort of thin.

Using an aluminum broom handle, and mostly empty propane tanks as counter weights while trying to navigate a fork lift while installing new LED lights in a chemical storage warehouse can cause excitement a mile away. Altogether it provided for an electrifyingly explosive experience.

The diminutive gentleman survived, somewhat scorched scraped and disheveled.

Bob, well no one knows exactly.

It was reported that astronauts reported a blazing something that narrowly missed the international space station at about the same time two square blocks of Orlando Florida became uniformly flat.

Hr still wants to talk to Bob, but no one knows how to get ahold of him. The consensus is, they will fire him for safety violations, though I suspect Bob already took care of that himself.

He hàd one job, and managed to lose several jobs simultaneously.

I think Bob had a great potential career as a politician ahead of him prior to lighting out for parts unknown.