Chapter 3

Chapter 3 · 19 sentences

Bob then leaves, without even a thought of wiping up any of the remains of his handy dandy work. But this is no surprise as Bob never had any thoughts about what he should do, only what is currently doing. Bob realises he has a gambling addiction and should blow his next paycheck on French ladies instead. Their accents were powerful and intriguing... they exhibited something Bob utterly lacked. Yet, the experience was deeply unsatisfying. Was it the color of their eyes? The bamboo ear muffs they were wearing? Or the Technicolor socks which tried to hide their surgically added 6th toes? Bob then remembers that he is also French, making their accents not that noticeable to him. He then thinks of asking her for a french horn The thought of the French horn's sound pierces through the dam holding back the murky memories of his past life, and the realization that he is the 67th King of Le Crossointville flood his mind, blue waves shoveling melancholy over his head as the memory of the Betrayel—the Technicolor Torching—burns through his mind. Suddenly he's thrust back into the present day by a buzzing in his pocket. It's his Tamagotchi. But it’s dead. He thinks about how sad it was dying in his pocket while he played the skin flute i have new diget pet who's name is dick and height is 30cm That's odd, Bob thought, Tamagotchi's usually don't speak and he never remembered its name as dick. It stops there starting at him, it's eyes piercing his skull, it licked its lips and smirked. Bob then felt an incredible itch...down there. Bob reaches down to pull Dick, his Tamagotchi, out of his pants pocket to give him a good satisfying scratch since he was feeling so itchy. It felt so comforting. After that he slept With comfort, comes complicity, Bob thought,a state that caused him to urge his mind to find what's next.

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