BOB JOHNSON RIDES AGAIN! 333

333. THE DEUS EX MACHINA MACHINA

333. THE DEUS EX MACHINA MACHINA

No bride in the history of accidental marriages has ever looked more beautiful or well adorned than winsome Trixie Belden; you might even say she was sporting a wild medley of fabrics, frills and matrimonial accoutrements that would catch the eye of any accidental suitor–with the obvious exception of Bob, who just stood at the altar in his well-worn used tuxedo sobbing into a pink lace napkin that had fallen from Trixie’s bustle. (“Bustle bustle bustle!”) (“Shut up, you stupid former Redactor! This isn’t Epstein Island, you know!”) Suffice it to say that Bob and Trixie were born to be accidentally married by the local Druid-in-Chief, Rutger Hauer, who finally said, “I pronounce you man and wife! You may kiss the bride!”

The ceremony was well attended by all the previously appearing characters who needed to show up to bring coherence to their narrative identities within these pages (or pixels.) For example, fresh off his devastating loss to idiots through wielding his own superior type of idiocy, Keir Starmer and his best bud, Led Peter Hot Pants, had honored this dishonorable occasion by stripping off their underpants (and hot pants) in order to, as unofficial ushers, show people to their seats in flagrante delicto–or whatever it is you call showing people to their seats while revealing the entirety of your own bare seats along the way. Outside, all of Bob’s so-called friends were smoking illegal weed in the back of Suzy Banshee’s van, while Suzy, the county’s most successful stay-at-work mom, kept calling her adorable children (Pepper, Chili Pepper, Red Hot Chile Pepper and Ron) on the cell phone who, quite wisely, never picked up. (“I just wanted to remind you to eat plenty of junk food, stay up late watching violent horror movies on TV, and not to do your homework!” To which, on the other end of the line, the four children roll their eyes and snarl, “Yeah, sure, Moooom.”) And so far as the countless other characters who shall never be named later–such as the Cosgroves, the War Punkers, the Cthulhu (“Gezeundheit!”) and the Ma Mas, let’s not try counting them. Our fingers are tired.

But this is a wedding, after all, and should only focus on one thing: Love love love. The only decent thing left in this sorry world that isn’t owned entirely by assholes. Which is why, as soon as Rutger Hauer accidentally uttered the final words of his pronouncement–Thomasina carried Bob off to his car, and Clam Hardass carried Trixie off to theirs, and none of them were even seen in these parts again! Good bye, Bob! Good bye, Trixie! Goodbye, everybody! Please forget to write, but if you do write–send it to us care of the Former Redactor! Happy holidays as far away from America as you can get! Until, of course, the next Trump administration!

…

… Or until the day, exhausted by sweet dreams, Bob Johnson slowly rises to consciousness, turns in one direction to find Thomasina blissfully snoring, and turns in the other direction, looks out the window and sees…

San Francisco!