Bob’s Alien Encounter

by Scott Chitwood • Wednesday July 22nd, 2009
Posted in Desktop Gallery, Fractal Flames

It’s a well known fact of the neighborhood; Bob has a tendency of wandering down to the corner bar every other day or so to find his happy place, reverently referred to as “getting his El Blotto on”.  Thursdays are of course quite notable in this routine; a quirky group of southside musicians (The Chippewa Chapel Traveling Guitar Circle, Medicine Show, Musicians’ Network and Open Mic) take up residence in cramped quarters above the main floor to share in a weekly fix of bawdy sing-alongs, scatological ravings, perverse jokes and, yes, even occasionally brilliant musicianship.  Bob likes this, he likes it big-big.

On this particular evening, sadly not a Thursday, Bob chases five shots of cheap tequila with two pints of brown ale, waves a happy good-night to no one who sees him, and stumbles down the sidewalk towards home.

Mrs. Henderdsen watches his approach through smoke stained drapes hoping for a repeat of the “light pole incident of 1996” when our besotted friend thumped his head against the concrete pillar just below her window.  She had quite the giggle that long ago evening and may have even slightly wet her delicates, though she would never admit to that little transgression — oh my no!  “Damn,” she mutters in hushed tones “he missed again.”  Just then, her three cats (Stumpy, Princess and Moe) scurry ’round her ankles.  Our not-so-sweet Mrs. Hendersen twirls, flails, and falls squarely on the coffee table, sending an ashtray with nine days of dead cigarettes and grey filth tumbling ass-over-teakettle, striking her in much the same method that Bob did the light pole.  Ah, but we digress, we must catch up with Bob!

Thinking himself unseen Bob lets go with a long windy fart into the warm night.  No one to hear, no one to see — and boy howdy does he ever feel better!  And he needs to feel better after that bit of odd fear near the Hendersen place; something wasn’t quite right at the old bird’s shabby flat.  Strange sounds could heard behind those moldy drapes adorned with capering elves.  And something else too; like justice dealt swiftly and unexpectedly.  Weird thoughts he thinks does Bob.

Two steps, stumble, three steps, weave; and there it is.  Poised against darkened skies he sees…  he sees…  What does he see?

Okay, now it’s your turn.  Reader participation is required at this point in our little tale.  You can help this encounter move along by dropping a sentence or two in the comments and it’s anybodys guess on where it goes from there: Genius?  Or trainwreck?  Or somewhere in between?  :^)

Bob's Alien Encounter

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Rendered in Oxidizer 0.5.9.3.  Post processed in Photoshop CS for colour, contrast, and secondary image to fill outer background area.



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