What Happened With Bob

Bob wasn’t sure how much time had passed since the “therapist” had shown up in his bedroom. Days? Weeks?

Years?

It felt like years.

One thing was for sure: the situation was deteriorating rapidly.

After closely examining Bob’s CHiPs poster, the therapist brandished a pair of scissors. A few strategic cuts later, Bob’s beloved poster became a tunic-style t-shirt.

It greatly pleased the therapist, but thoroughly upset Bob.

Bob tried to curl up under the covers — to find peace and escape the madness.

Meanwhile, the therapist found Bob’s CD player. He turned the volume all the way up and pushed play. For a second there was silence. Bob tried to remember what CD he’d left in there…

Then the song “Rock Me Amadeus” started blaring out of the speakers.

The therapist stood perfectly still, listening. Letting the music wash over him. Then suddenly, he launched into an intense dance.

When the song ended, the therapist pushed the “repeat” button. Rock Me Amadeus continued on a constant loop for the next three hours–and the intense dance routine grew even more intense. More unsettling.

Bob desperately wished he had some sort of firearm. Alas, his two guns were back at the office. One had been used in an unsuccessful attempt to kill a spider…

And the other one was temporarily serving as the office pointer.

Perhaps there were other loaded weapons he’d forgotten about? Bob decided to check under his bed.

The only thing he found was a pair of ladies spa slippers that he’d mistakenly purchased years ago and forgotten to return.

In a flash, the therapist ripped the slippers out of Bob’s hands and tried them on.

Then he resumed his Rock Me Amadeus dance.

Bob crawled back under the covers. Slowly, and in spite of the blaring music, he began to drift off to sleep…

When he awoke later, the room was silent. He opened his eyes.

Things did not appear to be heading in a good direction.

Bob jumped out of bed and backed away from the fire and weird sculpture. He had no idea what the therapist was planning, but it didn’t seem like it would end well. He tried to think… how could he get out of this house? His only hope was to come up with a crazy idea — something that would appeal to the therapist’s insane thought process.

“We need a lion,” Bob said, surprised by how calm his voice sounded. “The pet shop will have one.”

This caught the therapist’s attention.

A lion… the therapist considered this. A lion… yes. That would be a perfect addition to the “ring of death” challenge he was planning.

They set off on Bob’s bike to procure a lion.

Bob was relieved to be out of the house, but also worried. The pet shop wasn’t going to have a lion. He needed another idea – fast.

All too soon, they arrived in town.

To Bob’s extreme dismay, the pet shop DID, in fact, have a lion. What the..!? This did not bode well for his afternoon.

But then a strange thing happened. The owner of the beauty shop next door stepped out to the street.

He seemed to be studying the therapist. Looking at him intently…

Finally, the beauty shop owner walked over. “Interesting shirt,” he said. The therapist just looked at him.

The beauty shop owner continued: “I couldn’t help but notice your ponytail. Did you do it yourself?”

The therapist did not speak or move. Then he nodded once.

The beauty shop owner thought about this. “I need you to follow me,” he said.

They went inside the shop.

“This is my business,” the owner explained once they were inside.

He pointed to an impressive display of photos on the wall. “I specialize in ponytail hairstyles for balding men who don’t like to smile,” he said.

“It’s not a huge market,” the owner conceded. “But it’s bigger than you think. And let me tell you this: You have what it takes to achieve extraordinary success here. Extraordinary.”

There was a pause, then: “I’m asking you to join my team,” said the owner.

The therapist asked for two minutes to consider the opportunity.

Ponytails… small amounts of hair… no smiling… These were all good things, the therapist thought.

He would, of course, insist on playing Falco’s “Rock Me Amadeus” on a constant loop in the beauty shop — at the highest possible decibel. But he could broach that issue later.

“Yes,” the therapist said in a grave voice.

Then he noticed Bob walk in. “You!” he yelled, pointing at Bob. “You are on your own!”

Bob’s heart nearly exploded with joy. Could it be?? Was this for real?? Then the therapist leaned way in. “AFTER I do your hair,” he hissed.

Bob wasn’t really a ponytail type of guy. And he didn’t love the idea hair extensions. Still, it was a small price to pay for his freedom.

Next week: The answer to… What Happened with Derek?