His mother, Harriet, was drunk when he was misconceived somewhere in America, late 1960. Miami, 1961, she didn’t know that there may be a problem but was overcome with a desire to abort this bowling ball that was making it impossible for her to keep fucking the cabana boy. Juan didn’t notice that she was pregnant, just thought that she had a fetish for potato latkes. He loved her deep throaty voice and deep throat and her belly was a pillow. He needed no more. The bowling ball would roll from side to side on occasion and the mother would roll with the punches. Her face was completely round as well. The hotel medic saw that she was with child before he noticed that she looked like a chipmunk. She had been so nauseous from the balling ball and had gained so much bowling ball weight that she didn’t know she was sick. The medic only noticed while he was wrapping his tongue around her tonsils. MUMPS! He ran away but she heard that above the faltering air conditioner.
Five months later, the bowling ball came out of its overheated chamber and was named Robert Isaac. He was cute in a way that all babies are cute, nothing special and nothing remarkable about the birth. Harriet was just glad it was over. She and Al never meant for this to happen. She was 39, and had never used birth control, so she thought that she was safe from these creatures. Their friends and family were delighted. Miracle! She had a coddled pregnancy, doing nothing for herself except read porn and eat entire boxes of Whitmans chocolates. Oh yes, for the first 6 months, she banged anything that stood still long enough to bang back. Someone must have had the mumps. And who the hell was the father of the kid?
When the happy family arrived home, there was a circus oh what a show waiting for them. Hundreds of cars and three men dressed in ancient Persian garb stood outside with balloons. Mirly, the maid, stood at the door, beaming, Franklyn the butler was inside creating hors d’oeuvres in the shape of hockey pucks. Remember that: hockey pucks.
ALL HAIL THE MESSIAH was the wail throughout the suburban neighborhood, who were all at the house anyway so there was nobody home in their own homes to hear it at a lower decibel level. As the family emerged from the 1960 turquoise Cadillac, the crowd bowed, cried, and would have gnashed their teeth against the bricks but the dental work would have been too expensive. ALL HAIL!!!!!
Harriet stayed in bed the next 2 years, under the covers, like a dead parakeet. Mirly, Mary the nanny, and Franklyn managed Bobby (what he came to be called as Messiah was eliciting too many “looks”). Dr. Jacoby, the mumbling jackass, after much translating, apparently told Harriet that she was depressed and she took him literally. The staff would bring in Bobby and lay him on her huge tits. He was shrieking in baby misery and Harriet really didn’t want to be bothered but some rites needed to be performed. His bris, held at a sold out Madison Square Garden, had been a planned disaster as the moil cut off his dick completely. He would never be told that boys and men were supposed to have dicks. This was a follow up to Harriet’s mumps. She read that he would be sterile anyway. This made him even more special and he would be shown that in many ways. Harriet began to adore her dickless child. She had enough of those long pink sausages to feed Africa and was trying in her own way to keep kosher, as Mirly, from the Deep South, had previously worked for the only Jewish couple in Sylvania, Georgia and picked up their god forsaken ways.
After two years, Harriet decided to get out of bed so that she could return to it with her willing victims. Bobby was starting to develop a personality. A sweet 3 year old, he murdered a friend in the backyard by hitting him over the head with a lavender Tonka truck. No charges were filed because he was the Messiah, and the parents of the dead kid were grateful because they were unable to find him a certain outfit that would have been envied at Friday night services.
Harriet, Bobby, and the staff made sure that things kept breaking in the house so that repairmen were always needed to keep Harriet very happy. Bobby was the most accommodating as he destroyed the entire ventilation system at least once a week. Harriet loved him more and more. Al was at work, building and minding his own business. The kid annoyed him for some reason, and Al hid behind the Wall Street Journal all of the time at home.
Friends noticed a change in Harriet. She had been a very amiable, generous, hilarious adulteress but soon after Bobby’s fourth birthday, she would exhibit bursts of anger that reverberated on Mercury. Still the life of any party, she HAD to be the life of the party or everyone else would be dead. Men would be killed by her look of scorn at their crotches. Women with a litany of what kind of diets they should be on. But still she held all attention and people applauded at her astonishing charisma. Al stood there in complete catatonia, fantasizing about being a pitcher for the Brooklyn Dodgers and Oh Henry candy bars. Harriet started to refrain from picking someone else to go home with and Al became very nervous. Also, one bright morning, she threw an entire set of Lalique crystal at a neighbor’s garden gnome. What was wrong? CHRONIC MUMPS???????? (And still nobody knew who fathered Bobby.)
Bobby. He was sent to Manacle Preschool and within 5 minutes, Harriet was called to pick him up. Apparently, his messianic good works took hold right away and three children were taken to the hospital with Crayola burnt siennas up their noses. She thought he was adorable and told him to go play outside. Later, when Al came home, she regaled him with this tale. About 50 times. He threw down the WSJ, took off his belt. Harriet felt a sudden thrill. Something she had never felt from him. Now? We haven’t done it since whenever we did it, she thought impetuously. But Al took the strap to the front door. “BOBBY! GET IN HERE!” Bobby the obedient got in Al’s station wagon and drove down the driveway into the house across the street. (He was 4 but knew instinctively how to drive well, even without keys.) So the wagon and that house were wrecked and Al forgot about the Manacle mishugas. Bobby was unhurt; in fact he now had a halo around his red curls, according to Harriet. The Sterns, away on vacation in the Bahamas, were later told that the town drunk had paid a visit. There was no known town drunk but the Sterns had attended bad schools.
Kindergarten brought out more of Bobby’s saintliness as Harriet was able to keep the Cadillac from feeling neglected. There was a daily pick up call, as the teacher felt unworthy of such wonder. Bobby had locked 3 girls in the closet after spraying Raid in there. He thought they needed a time out and did not want them to be eaten by cockroaches. How thoughtful was that!
Meanwhile. Harriet was capsizing into a total bitch. One day she ran off with Bob Goulet and was never heard from again. Al ate a carton of Oh Henrys and moved over to the center of the bed so there was room for the Wall Street Journal on one side and Sports Illustrated (for the articles) on the other.
Bobby was raised by the house staff which by then consisted of Mirley who was deaf, dumb, blind, and limbless. Bobby caused all of his teachers to voluntarily admit themselves into Pilgrim State Psychiatric Hospital, and he dropped out at the end of 9th grade, with a GPA of 0.042. The cult of Bobby as Messiah had long dwindled but he was charming and managed to make everything he did seem like a sacrament. Al pretended he never had any children, which he hadn’t. Bobby was the bi-product of Harriet’s one hour stand with Buddy (“Mumpsy”) Hackett in the broom closet at Westbury Music Fair.
After receiving his honorary GED at the remedial school for slapshot victims (he had discovered that the anatomy of many slapshot victims resembled his own through a madcap tour of nudist hockey rehabs), Bobby now teaches a course for the dickless at the Learning Annex on how to stuff your pants with iced hockey pucks. He is pursuing his BS in BS online at the University of Patchogue dot com. He is single, has feelings of being gay but doesn’t know what that means, and lives with his Chia pet, Ego, in Myrtle Beach.
Harriet was left with the bulk of Robert Goulet’s estate but was soon murdered with a bronze dildo by a showboy at Caesar’s Palace.
Five months later, the bowling ball came out of its overheated chamber and was named Robert Isaac. He was cute in a way that all babies are cute, nothing special and nothing remarkable about the birth. Harriet was just glad it was over. She and Al never meant for this to happen. She was 39, and had never used birth control, so she thought that she was safe from these creatures. Their friends and family were delighted. Miracle! She had a coddled pregnancy, doing nothing for herself except read porn and eat entire boxes of Whitmans chocolates. Oh yes, for the first 6 months, she banged anything that stood still long enough to bang back. Someone must have had the mumps. And who the hell was the father of the kid?
When the happy family arrived home, there was a circus oh what a show waiting for them. Hundreds of cars and three men dressed in ancient Persian garb stood outside with balloons. Mirly, the maid, stood at the door, beaming, Franklyn the butler was inside creating hors d’oeuvres in the shape of hockey pucks. Remember that: hockey pucks.
ALL HAIL THE MESSIAH was the wail throughout the suburban neighborhood, who were all at the house anyway so there was nobody home in their own homes to hear it at a lower decibel level. As the family emerged from the 1960 turquoise Cadillac, the crowd bowed, cried, and would have gnashed their teeth against the bricks but the dental work would have been too expensive. ALL HAIL!!!!!
Harriet stayed in bed the next 2 years, under the covers, like a dead parakeet. Mirly, Mary the nanny, and Franklyn managed Bobby (what he came to be called as Messiah was eliciting too many “looks”). Dr. Jacoby, the mumbling jackass, after much translating, apparently told Harriet that she was depressed and she took him literally. The staff would bring in Bobby and lay him on her huge tits. He was shrieking in baby misery and Harriet really didn’t want to be bothered but some rites needed to be performed. His bris, held at a sold out Madison Square Garden, had been a planned disaster as the moil cut off his dick completely. He would never be told that boys and men were supposed to have dicks. This was a follow up to Harriet’s mumps. She read that he would be sterile anyway. This made him even more special and he would be shown that in many ways. Harriet began to adore her dickless child. She had enough of those long pink sausages to feed Africa and was trying in her own way to keep kosher, as Mirly, from the Deep South, had previously worked for the only Jewish couple in Sylvania, Georgia and picked up their god forsaken ways.
After two years, Harriet decided to get out of bed so that she could return to it with her willing victims. Bobby was starting to develop a personality. A sweet 3 year old, he murdered a friend in the backyard by hitting him over the head with a lavender Tonka truck. No charges were filed because he was the Messiah, and the parents of the dead kid were grateful because they were unable to find him a certain outfit that would have been envied at Friday night services.
Harriet, Bobby, and the staff made sure that things kept breaking in the house so that repairmen were always needed to keep Harriet very happy. Bobby was the most accommodating as he destroyed the entire ventilation system at least once a week. Harriet loved him more and more. Al was at work, building and minding his own business. The kid annoyed him for some reason, and Al hid behind the Wall Street Journal all of the time at home.
Friends noticed a change in Harriet. She had been a very amiable, generous, hilarious adulteress but soon after Bobby’s fourth birthday, she would exhibit bursts of anger that reverberated on Mercury. Still the life of any party, she HAD to be the life of the party or everyone else would be dead. Men would be killed by her look of scorn at their crotches. Women with a litany of what kind of diets they should be on. But still she held all attention and people applauded at her astonishing charisma. Al stood there in complete catatonia, fantasizing about being a pitcher for the Brooklyn Dodgers and Oh Henry candy bars. Harriet started to refrain from picking someone else to go home with and Al became very nervous. Also, one bright morning, she threw an entire set of Lalique crystal at a neighbor’s garden gnome. What was wrong? CHRONIC MUMPS???????? (And still nobody knew who fathered Bobby.)
Bobby. He was sent to Manacle Preschool and within 5 minutes, Harriet was called to pick him up. Apparently, his messianic good works took hold right away and three children were taken to the hospital with Crayola burnt siennas up their noses. She thought he was adorable and told him to go play outside. Later, when Al came home, she regaled him with this tale. About 50 times. He threw down the WSJ, took off his belt. Harriet felt a sudden thrill. Something she had never felt from him. Now? We haven’t done it since whenever we did it, she thought impetuously. But Al took the strap to the front door. “BOBBY! GET IN HERE!” Bobby the obedient got in Al’s station wagon and drove down the driveway into the house across the street. (He was 4 but knew instinctively how to drive well, even without keys.) So the wagon and that house were wrecked and Al forgot about the Manacle mishugas. Bobby was unhurt; in fact he now had a halo around his red curls, according to Harriet. The Sterns, away on vacation in the Bahamas, were later told that the town drunk had paid a visit. There was no known town drunk but the Sterns had attended bad schools.
Kindergarten brought out more of Bobby’s saintliness as Harriet was able to keep the Cadillac from feeling neglected. There was a daily pick up call, as the teacher felt unworthy of such wonder. Bobby had locked 3 girls in the closet after spraying Raid in there. He thought they needed a time out and did not want them to be eaten by cockroaches. How thoughtful was that!
Meanwhile. Harriet was capsizing into a total bitch. One day she ran off with Bob Goulet and was never heard from again. Al ate a carton of Oh Henrys and moved over to the center of the bed so there was room for the Wall Street Journal on one side and Sports Illustrated (for the articles) on the other.
Bobby was raised by the house staff which by then consisted of Mirley who was deaf, dumb, blind, and limbless. Bobby caused all of his teachers to voluntarily admit themselves into Pilgrim State Psychiatric Hospital, and he dropped out at the end of 9th grade, with a GPA of 0.042. The cult of Bobby as Messiah had long dwindled but he was charming and managed to make everything he did seem like a sacrament. Al pretended he never had any children, which he hadn’t. Bobby was the bi-product of Harriet’s one hour stand with Buddy (“Mumpsy”) Hackett in the broom closet at Westbury Music Fair.
After receiving his honorary GED at the remedial school for slapshot victims (he had discovered that the anatomy of many slapshot victims resembled his own through a madcap tour of nudist hockey rehabs), Bobby now teaches a course for the dickless at the Learning Annex on how to stuff your pants with iced hockey pucks. He is pursuing his BS in BS online at the University of Patchogue dot com. He is single, has feelings of being gay but doesn’t know what that means, and lives with his Chia pet, Ego, in Myrtle Beach.
Harriet was left with the bulk of Robert Goulet’s estate but was soon murdered with a bronze dildo by a showboy at Caesar’s Palace.
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