I had a wonderful experience today. A very DOBBSLY one. There's a busy corner in my little Arkie backwater that has lately been infested with a variety of low-brow Christians. Its Spring in Narkinsaw, so out come the flowers, the birds, the mosquitoes and the missionaries.

When it isn't befouled by some stumbling DNA mud-wallow with several of his or her snot-bedecked larvae milling about to support their "Abortion Is Murder" platform, (in their case, it'd be a mercy to them and a blessing to US) its this old geezer wavin' a cross that spells out 'Jesus' on both axes, y'know, with the "s" in the middle? The Anti-Aborto crowd always has one of those nasty, post-vacuum shots so you can enjoy the image of mangled fetus while you eat, but today, it was just Grampaw Crucifixture.

When I'm careening into F-Mart for rat poison, a wrench and some cassettes with which to spread my audio evil, I don't wanna be distracted by THEIR wheezing idea of an Afterlife, y'dig?

Having just wheeled through Wendy's for some fried bird chunks, I thought I'd pull over & see if I could put the pants on Nhe*Ghe* with this Pre-Cambrian codger. Anybody who'll stand on a street corner waving a big ol' CROSS at traffic surely has some "fun" potential. So I girded my Gland, quit THINKIN' and let Dobbs do the drivin'. Wish I'd had a tape recorder on me.

Lately, I've taken to keeping a few copies of Pamphlet #1 in the car for just such ecclesiastical "emergencies." I opened by saying that I WAS a Christian and asking him exactly what his plan was with the public display. I let him ramble about the Lard for a while, reeling in the threads of how little he really knew.

After questioning him for a bit, I discovered that he sported very little Old Testament, apparently thought Golgotha was a Japanese monster until I identified it, had no idea of what the Hamurabi Code was, had no answer for how Adam & Eve's kids multiplied without bangin' their siblings, refuted Adam's first and 'failed' wife Lilith, (Hiya, Lil!) thought a real Pillar of Fire could appear at any moment, ad infinitum, ad nauseum, ad Looney Toon. A real ripe poltroon, in other words, with Faith as his shield, Dogma as his spear and Turtle Wax for brains.

I actually managed to maintain his interest for bit, explaining that I had been baptized into the body of Christ when I was merely 13, so he thought I was one of The Tribe. Initially, anyway. I HAD him! I said that I'd left the church because of the hypocrisy, lies and gossip and just couldn't abide the pew-warmers no more. I said they'd become lukewarm and The Lord had spit them from His mouth & all that stuff. He thought he'd found a new runnin' buddy-AT FIRST!

I took his smearily-printed tract, with its pathetic illustrations of guys in wads of fire, big ol' Hand o' God pointing at their heads, all that rot. In turn, I handed him Pamphlet #1: "The World Ends Tomorrow And YOU MAY DIE!!!" I told him we'd learned that much of what churches were preaching these days was poisoned fruit born of the JeHoVaH-1 tree and that only "Bob" could save us from the alien demons that did His evil work. I explained that our group of the Saved knew one another because of the sympathetic resonance of the FootGland emanations that let us home in on each other like cruise missles. He began to squirm.

I explained that we SubGeniuses believed in EVERY religion, because we knew it all came from the same source and that the only real blasphemy was "giving Satan running shoes." I said the Evil Space God JHVH-1 had been adulterating the true Word of God for years and that we were trying to set things right. I told him that "Bob" was interceding with the alien overlords to preserve those of the faithful who tithed their $30 every year, that the false SubGeniuses were duly processed and their souls stored in canisters in that special basement in Dallas.

I said that "Bob" arm-wrestled Satan every July for the rights to the souls of leftover Bobbie fools who thought a "Prarie Squid" t-shirt and a DobbsHead sticker on their car would save their dumb asses. I said I knew we were on the right track because I'd had several beers with Jesus & "Bob" just last Saturday afternoon at Boogie's, a shit-kicker bar near the downtown fire station. He was really giving me the nearest thing to the Evil Eye the brain-dead can muster by this time.

I hit my psychic crescendo by telling him that the most devoted of us sealed our loyalty to "Bob" by having his image put on us for real so the laser scanners could identify us for premium entry to the Pleasure Saucers just prior to Karmageddon. That's when I whipped up m'shirt sleeve and showed him my recent tattoo of Doktor Nenslo's "Fraidy Bob." His rheumy old eyes bugged out and he said "Son, you've taken the Mark of the Beast onto yourself and there's no hope for you now! You've defeated your baptism and I have nothin' else to say to you! Take your devil tract and get away from here right now! I'm doin' th' Lord's work and there's no place for you here!"

I said "Well, sir, I'm sorry to hear that, but I'll leave you in peace. Jesus loves you and so does 'Bob.'" I could hear his withered bones clanking together as I left, but in his righteous froth, he KEPT THE PAMPHLET!!! He'll probably carry it back to the nest and spread it to the queen! My work was done, praise ME! Let this be a cautionary tale: keep a Pamphlet with you at all times, 'cause you never know when you'll need it to whump a Jeezo Clown! PRAISE double-dippin', triple-dicked, four-lobed "BOB!!!" "BOB!!!!!!" "BOOOOBBB!!!!!!!!!!!"

HellPope Huey,
I saw my duty and I dood it

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Original file name: A-1 "Bob" Tale!- I Whumped

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