BOB JOHNSON RIDES AGAIN! 260

260. TODAY’S PRONOUNS HAVE BEEN CANCELLED FOR A REASON NOT YET TO BE DISCLOSED

260. TODAY’S PRONOUNS HAVE BEEN CANCELLED FOR A REASON NOT YET TO BE DISCLOSED

Scintilla was riding her majestic mobility scooter high into the snowy hills, often at speeds approaching three or four miles per hour, escorted by a group of tag-along sidekicks and cheerleaders she had picked up along the way–none other that Dr. Mabuse’s loathsome (and yet strangely endearing) hench-people: Rocko, Fantomas and the once-estranged/now devoted son of Scintilla, Cy Sperling.

“You can’t drag her back to a life of middle class non-being and dull-as-rice streaming services–and I’m looking at you, Netflix!” Rocko shouted over his shoulder, while letting off several pops from his AK47. “She won’t be contained by your tract housing and Walmart gift cards!” shouted Fantomas over his shoulder, and let rip several additionla rounds from his .44 Magnum PK. “But most of all, my mom wouldn’t be caught dead at a PTA meeting!” shouted Scintilla’s long lost (and unfortunately (for Nature) rediscovered son, Cy Sperling.) “And anyway, she doesn’t have time to be locked up in your prison of conformity! She’ll be too busy making me scrambled eggs for brekkie!”

Meanwhile, the least decorated officer on the SLO police force, Sgt. Dirty Harry Coltrane Davis, has been calling for reinforcements over his dashboard radio. “Helicopters!” he shouted. “And lots of them! Not to mention Canadian Mounties, Peruvian bolo-dancers and/or Zorro, a fleet of seagulls that includes Bucky Alexander and his wife, Brandy, a boy named Sue, a girl named Post-it, more helicopters, and anything that isn’t nailed down! This crazy old broad took our pronouns (I’m especially partial to Hisn’n Royal thingus), and we need them back! We need them back now!”