THE NEW BOB PART TWO

It was about 8 P.M. and I heard a knock on the door.  It was Bob.  I could not believe my eyes; there he stood in his Sunday suit, a short haircut and combed with a part...and he held a single Rose in his hand.  I could not help it, I said "Excuse me a moment"  and wept my heart out.  He asked if I was going to be alright, and I nodded my head and waved him in.  I motioned for him to sit down.  When I became able to speak, I told him how wonderful he looked.  I went over and hugged him.  We visited about this and that and then I told him what I had done earlier with the Realtor.  I did not think he would stop laughing.  I asked him why he thought it so funny and he said it was the bizarre nature of it...."That is so bitchin"  which was a word used back then for something really cool.  I told him that it flew in the face of what an old man should be like, but, that somehow, it made me feel better.  Bob said:  "I would like to do that with you....I like to freak people out."   He then began to come up with ideas..crazy stuff..funny stuff....He told me of a restaurant downtown where there was a line of tables that ran along the windows facing Brand Blvd. and how people liked window seating.  "Why don't we go there and just stare through the window and watch them eat."  Actually, I liked the idea..then wondered why.  I suggested we buy a frozen Turkey at the Market and some railroad flares and a four wheeled cart and a platter and put Turkey and Platter on the cart and push the flares into the Turkey (they had a spike on the end) and light the flares and then push the cart down the sidewalk on Brand on a Saturday when lots of shoppers are out.  Then he related how he and Tommy Pulver like to go the movies and fart as loud as they could.  I added that we should find a way to classify farts as about every thing else is classified.  He loved the idea.  Maybe something like a five point area like Ease of delivery....duration....he was already rolling on the floor...and then he added  smell....I suggested it would be funnier to say boquet..like the rose you held.  He fell on the floor again just roaring.  He added "How about crowd response?)....we get allot of that in the movie house"   I was in the swing of things and suggested something for the old folks....staining factor.  He was laughing so hard he was red in the face.   Both of us had hurting ribs and decided we couldn't laugh any more that  night.   Oh, wow,  I was a kid again.  He said it was his bedtime and needed to get home.  I told him that I wanted him to write a letter to Jeanette and let me see it before he sent it.  "I can't write to her, what would I say."?  I said  "A writer can kill himself by trying to be good.  Just be yourself..let your feelings flow out..be honest....give it a try."  He agreed and gave  me another hug and said  "I wished you were my Father."  I replied  "I wished you were my Son"....He turned and walked away, and I shut the door of the house and shut the door of the best day of my entire lifetime.  (to be continued)