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You choose Blackberry
Cobbler. Maris Mudder of Jebus, you chose correctly! Everyone knows that
bums prefer the taste of Blackberry Cobbler over all others.
(2 out of 3 hobo's agree!)
You must have done your
homework! Now, back to business. You hand the
cobbler to the bum. He's still yammering "Coooobbler! Coooooobbler!"
"Here, eat this shit, slappy!" you say as you force it toward his mouth.
In
a tornado of teeth, crust and blackberries, the pie vanishes in front of
your eyes. Suddenly, the homeless man focuses in your face. He uncrosses
his
eyes, locks in with yours and says, "Thank you my good man. That was
quite
delicious. Now, in order to accomplish the task at hand, we need at
least
three people."
"Wait a minute? You
said you could do all three things! What's going on?"
"Yeah, I also said that I was survived by my wife Dionne Warwick, was
abducted by aliens, and still have an anal probe stuck in my colon. Did
you believe that?"
No, you didn't believe that. Great. So now you need to find three
people. However, the bum seems eager to help, so you decide to employ
his services. You know that most bums, despite smelling like cottage
cheese and Yoohoo, are quite resourceful. They know how to make the best
out of a bad situation.
"Now, unless you have giant genitals blocking your vision, you'll see
that
my resources are next to nil. I'll need some sort of financial
compensation," said the Cobbler bum.
"But I just gave you a Blackberry cobbler pie!" you say. "You want my
money,
too?"
"Coooobbler!" he shouts in your face. "Now, let's focus here."
You shit your pants. That was scary!
"Okay," said the bum. "Because you're probably as poor as I am, we'll have
to sell a few of my personal possessions to make the money to pay the
bouncer, bartender and crew so that you can have a successful scare-fest. I
have four items I'm willing to part with."
"No," you injected. "You only have four items to begin with."
"Cooooooobbler!" he shouts again. You flinch and bite your lip. "Sorry,"
he
says. "I have really bad cramps. I feel like I'm on my period. I'm quite
irritable."
You mention to him that he's a guy and only girls have periods.
"Yeah, but if I was a chick and I was on my period its my executive
decision
that it would closely resemble, if not completely parallel, the searing
intestinal pain I'm feeling at this moment. But forget about all that vagina
ballyhoo. We have to choose which of these four items will prove to be
the
most lucrative. A used bandage autographed by Fred Savage, a speculum
rumored to belong to
Dr. Bactine himself, a remote control that can turn
off
the voices in my head, and my favorite tin foil hat. We will choose our
favorite and sell it on Ebay!" the bum says with a crazy two-toothed grimace.
"Uh... I don't have time to wait for Ebay! And sorry bub, but I don't
think
those items will sell. I hope you have a PLAN B." You're beginning to
get
worried because things aren't looking good.
"You're right," says the bum. "The remote ran out of batteries a year
ago.
How about I threaten people to give us money?"
This idea sounds great so you give the bum a giant thumbs up. He meanders to
the corner where there are quite a few pedestrians making their lunch
runs.
The Cobbler Bum needs to do something really bad to get money from these
people, but nothing bad enough to get him thrown in jail. God forbid he
sleeps in a comfy cell with three square meals a day. He's the only one
who
can help!
WHAT DOES HE YELL?
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