“Aside from battles, the history of nations seemed to consist of nothing but powerless old
poops…………heavily medicated and vaguely beloved in the long ago, coming to kiss the
boots of young psychopaths.”
– Kurt Vonnegut, Slapstick 1976
Business Case Study of the B.o.B. of the Future
<<let us just jump into things. you and Hopskotch were kidnapped by a giant spider
and taken to an alternate dimension or the future or something like that. and well
Notnek is still a jerk. free dave still isn’t working on anything other than a smoke
break. the waitresses all still flirt with you and bring you heavily liquored drinks.
you still don’t have your son. Finnegan, you are pretty certain that Baby Thor is no
longer a baby. gAberaham and Dyin tell future you that Thor has left this
dimension. you have been in the 44th century for a month of Sundays not yet seen
What?! What are you blathering on about? I am not in the future. I am in hell. I cannot
begin to summarize what the past month has been like. But I am working for a zombie
cow Notnek at a zombie cow Bucket o’ Blood and my only comfort has been the demon
alcohol and zombie cow comedian in a Darth Vader mask. Until yesterday when the new
dishwasher showed up at work; and it was Hopskotch…
<<i know. i watched you go the big soft rubbery one>>
“Hey Finnegan.”, says Hopskotch Sunday.
<<Hopskotch Sunday is standing in the back kitchen, just inside the Black Metal
Back Door of the B.o.B. you drop the plate of food you are handing to a waitress.
your mouth opens but no words come out. that is a first. Hopskotch Sunday no
longer has his head full of dreadlocks. his head has been shaved and the number
319 has been tattooed on the side of his head. the ink work looks familiar. Notnek
barges into the kitchen and screams>>
“Junior!! Why in the hell are we out of Chutney?!”, asks Notnek.
<<you and Hopskotch do not get to talk much until after the dinner rush. out back
over a couple drinks from the bar, you try to speak to Hopskotch over the sound of
Free Dave asking the Waitress to help him make some fuck>>
“So much of the land of this world has been blown up or fallen into the sea since the
Horde took them helm of ‘Merica’ that what the rising oceans didn’t swallow has turned
into overgrown jungle or trodden pasture. the Horde set aside vast tracks of land for
seemingly uninfected cows to roam free, grazing on the fields of ever growing green
grass. The Human population is kept at a minimum for feeding upon of for wage slave
labor. The Cows in Charge thought that it was a fitting punishment to let humans keep
their day jobs. The illuminati takes out whole cities of cows or humans if they think that
it is getting too big.”, you say.
“Or too powerful.”, says Hopskotch Sunday.
<<it is a bright sunny day in the Oklahellmouth in the year 4325. the City of
Oklahellmouth is the last remaining city still standing on the West ‘Merican’
continent. well it is the only other than whatever is going on down at the Farm
anyway. you know Finnegan, a real live functioning, bustling, mass transportation
offering, cubical jockeying, quote unquote unskilled laborer (cooking), police
patrolling, pollster polling, vote tampering, over
crowding…ing city. the birds are taller than what passes for trees here. you and
Hopskotch dodge a big bird stomping through the parking lot and stumble toward
the back patio and the Black Metal Back Door of the Bucket o’ Blood.
&&image of a 50’ pigeon with Hop and Finn in between the legs&&
<<forever and always, Notnek and his Horde buddies are sitting up at the bar and
laughing over drinks. they occasionally take a glimpse at the sports games on the
many float television screens floating around the bar. watching television too long
makes a person look like a paranoid schizophrenic. i consider viruses and humans
and cowmans and televisions and the like to all mingle in the person category now.
unfortunately in the year 4325 the televisions have even less personality than the
flat screens of yesteryear. these days the screen is just a panel of digital receivers
printed off of the Bucket o’ Blood’s 3D supply printer. do not ask how much of the
food is printed off of that same machine. there are hundreds of moving about all
over the dining room. the movement of the screens and the channels are changed
by a person focusing their attention on the screen. the machines interact with the
brain waves of other people and share their content with the viewer in a dialogue
<<the sports game goes to commercial. there is an advertisement for a late night
comedy show called “Moo-re Cow Bell”, hosted by ‘Merica’s Last “Living” Comedian,
a Zombie Cowman named Lenny V. Lenny V wears a Darth Vader helmet on his cow
head. asked why he, a member of the Horde, wears a mask from a human SciFi
movie from the Stoned age; Lenny V always gives the same answer. with a
thoughtful look in his far away eyes, a downturned mouth, and yes, a raised
crinkled chin; Lenny V says,>> “Although you cannot see me face, you can understand
me through my words. I have a thoughtful look in my far away eyes, a down turned
mouth, and yes a crinkled chin. I cry, I have feelings. I also have a day job, a mortgage, a
hungry wife, a spoiled mistress, child support and a pill habit that makes me shit myself.
I have funny shits.”
<<this makes the audience scream with laughter, as do all of his jokes on his
televised evening routine. this cow is one funny mother fucker. apparently
humans get more points by achieving fornication with the mothers your species?>>
Yes. Fuck me.
<<ha. I see what you did there Finnegan>>
You were talking about this funny cow from two thousand years after I should be dead?
<<yes. there are several tentacles that hang out from the bottom of the Vader
mask… Lenny V’s Darth Vader mask also has a line of clear plastic tubing that runs
from the bottom of the mask down to an oxygen tank that has been converted to
hold a THC gas. the Comedian breathes deeply of the gas from the tank that bears a
“Local Martyrs Band” sticker. the audience roars and the “Moo-re Cow Bell” logo
pops up on the screen; a variety of ‘Lenny V’ products fall from the top of the screen
to the bottom and then “Moo_re_Cow_Bell.cow” lands on the pile of Lenny V
merchandise. thus endeth the commercial. Notnek smiles when he see you, his
Cook, and Hopskotch, his Dishwasher, clocking into work>>
“Junior, Hop-a-long, why, you’re late?!”, Notnek says. <<with mock astonishment
overflowing from his beer glass>>
“Harr d Harr harr..”, laugh the Bosses Buddies. <<all of the Boss’s cow buddies sit on
bar stools and lean on tables, drinking beer and eating fried food stuffs. the
Cowmen turn their attention away from the television sports show commercials
long enough to laugh at Notnek’s employee wage slaves>>
“Sorry Boss.”, you and Hopskotch say. <<in monotone unison>>
“There was a line at the suicide booth.”, you offer. <<in addiction to the previous
“Damnit girl, I know you know those things have been busted, out of order, broke, since
3995?!”, bellows Zombie Lawyer Bob.
<<ZLB, or Zombie Lawyer Bob, distributes all of the contents of his gin an tonic
glass all over the bar as he slurs at you>>
“Don’t I know it Lawyer Bob. But be damned if me and three hundred other cows and
cooks don’t check it every trucking morning for the Government’s Prophesied Repairs.”,
you say. <<this pleases the Horde’s favorite Lawyer>>
<<news on a dozen flying televisions display a plastic looking evening news
broadcaster who announces:>> “Humans employed in the construction of a new series
of 279 meter high pyramids in LaVaca, Kaliphonia were killed in a volcano eruption
today. Construction crews digging subterranean levels for the pyramid apparently broke
an underground damn the brought in millions of gallons of sea water into the Kaliphonia
main land. A volcanic eruption was seen 6 hours after the inland flooding began. East
‘Merican’ China has offered to give aid to displaced Kaliphonians despite country wide
disruptions caused by the Cowmen Industries revolt. Jackalmen can be seen setting fires
to grass patties here. Ashley is in the weather room…”, says Anchorman Knowone
&&insert Jackalmen and news caster floating around future bucket o blood bar with cowmen lawyer bob and benny. Notnek and Hopskotch and Finnegan on next page&&
“Quit being cute Junior and get in that kitchen. It’s thursgay and you know that means
we need ten daily specials for the community lunch.”, say Notnek.
<<the Boss waves all four of his arms in a sweeping motion to indicated the
community of which he speaks. ten cowmen of varying human and cow
proportions sit in the bar area and more and more cows are coming in through the
from t barn door. you feel the last of today’s hope draining right out of you
“Right-o Mine Führer, right after I visit the greatest nation in the world. Urination.”, you
say. <<you say this to Notnek in passing. it is your ritual to pretend that it is normal
to walk into a restaurant that serves human/cow hybrids a mixture of human/plant
based foods. it is your practice these days to cook and clean with Hopskotch and to
go home (what the two of you call home anyway) and paint and draw and write and
cry until the day is at it’s end. until the cows come home. it is also your practice to
consume as much of your employer’s booze as inhumanly/humanly possible to dull
your senses against theatricals and tribulations which assault you from Boss and
<<the Bucket o’ Blood violates your soul from all directions and in numerous
indirect ways. From the cooks’ and the waitress’s and the customers’ unending
needs and desires to the Boss’s constant verbal attack and occasional physical ass
kicking. Notnek follows you from the bar to the restroom and continues the
conversation you just tried to end>>
<<cutting you off halfway to the restroom, Notnek puts on cow arm in front of you
and another on the table next to you. the Boss/cow reminds you of a spider holding
a fly trapped inside a web.>>
“What’s the problem Junior? You look more miserable than usual.”, says Notnek.
&&finnegan n virus image&& need to put one in every finn & virus break for logical cohesion. when finnegan speaks like below
Mock concern foams in Notnek’s eyes.
<<he does care that you are miserable Finnegan>>
I know. Notnek doesn’t enjoy having me around unless I am in emotional or physical
<<well it does bring him pleasure to watch you suffer, to be true, but I also think
that he does still care a bit about you on a former human to human level>>
Thanks bud, all better.
<<glad i could help.. real mock concern in his eyes, Notnek’s udders jiggle between
the lapels of his unbuttoned yellow Hawaiian shirt. “Sunset in Paradise”, he calls
this replica of the shirt he wore every Taco Tuesday two thousand years ago>>
“What’s the problem Junior?”, the Boss repeats.
“Yup. More miserable than usual.”, you say.
<<you look up at your “employer”, who has always been dozens of centimeters
taller than you. cow zombification has only increased his height. you pour forth
enthusiasm that matches Notnek’s wardrobe selection. the crooked smile on your
face is dubious to say the least. Notnek scowls at you and opens his human mouth
to make the talking noise>>
“Bud are you still cryin’ about cooking?! It is your lot in life! Accept it. Relax and let it
happen. Bummed that you’re still working for me after time travel and zombie
apocalypse? Simple. I win at life. You? Well, not so much. There. Does that rub a dub
dub it into your rum soaked brain? Minimum Wage Misery. Why, it is all yours
Finnegan.”, says Notnek.
“Mindless we wander, looking for meaning in a bottle or a bowl, new pants or a flying
car. Why don’t I have a flying car boss?”, you say.
<<Notnek smiles and raises his beer in his left human hand, toasting one of his
buddies who sits at the bar giggling with the two headed Bartender that’s learning
at you. Notnek has already forgotten that he was belittling you and has walked
toward the bar and his buddy. the “buddy”, a cowman named Terrance, is an oil
field worker with red dirt on his boots and an old leather jacket. the leather jacket
looks a lot like yours, except Terrance’s jacket is made out of Russel, the old night
cook. Terrance notices you looking at his jacket and nods at you and yours>>
“If you don’t salt the skin within a few hours of removal of the critter’s flesh, ya might as
well just burn it. The skin starts to decompose so quickly and you’ll lose most of the
people hair off of it and this awesome skin tone. You want to try it on?”, says Terrance.
<<you ignore the Boss’s buddy and take a swig from the rum flask that lives in your
back pocket. Finnegan, if your philosophy makes you want to stay drunk and
stoned all of the time, i would suggest reformatting your mental parameters. it
seems to be a social sickness. the “why are we killing ourselves” disease. Lawyer
Bob had it back when he was a human two thousand years ago too>>