Tell me a story, or Go Away!
Bedtime stories I told my Daughter.
By
Elizabeth Massaro
The Three Sphincters
As told to Emily circa 2000.
Once upon a
time there lived three sphincters who lived in a house at the edge
of the forest. Their names were Hobo, Bobo, and Mobo and they were
exceedingly challenged by everyday life. They all lived together
and had several adventures and they always managed to annoy their
neighbor, Mr. Crabs (this was before Spongebob), who lived across
the street. Here then is one of their “adventures” as I remember
it.
Once upon a
time there lived three sphincters, Hobo, Bobo, and Mobo, who lived
in a house at the edge of the forest. Usually they just watched
television or played video games, but today was different! Today
one of them got an idea. Usually, it was Hobo who got all the
ideas, as he was the brightest sphincter.
“I’ve got an
idea,” said Hobo. “Let’s go to the moon in a rocket ship. How hard
could that be?”
“I’ve got an
idea, too,” said Bobo. “Let’s go to the moon!”
“Moon, moon,
moon,” said Mobo. “What’s an idea?”
So, as the
three sphincters were somewhat in agreement about this idea, they
proceeded to contemplate what device they would use to rocket
themselves into outer space.
“We need a
rocket,” said Hobo . “Something sturdy, yet light weight, that would
be large enough to hold all three of us.
“We need a
rocket, said Bobo. “Something that will go zoom! To the moon!”
“Zoom, zoom
to the moon moon!” said Mobo. “What’s a rocket?”
“Let’s look
around outside,” said Hobo. “Maybe we can find something we can
use!”
“Let’s go
outside and look around,” said Bobo. “We need a zoom.”
Mobo, who
hadn’t been listening, didn’t say anything.
The three of
them were looking outside, when across the street they noticed that
Mr. Crabs, their usually unfriendly neighbor, had placed three metal
tube-like things with handles and lids near his garage door. (Crabs
wasn’t really his name, in reality it was Jones, but the sphincters called him Crabs because of his personality.)
Hobo was
over-joyed.
“Hey,these
tube things would make a great rocket ship to the moon,” said Hobo.
“Wow, let’s
make a moon rocket out of these tubed things,” said Bobo.
“Uba-duba
tubas,” said Mobo. Then, after a long contemplative pause he said,
“what’s a moon?”
Hobo decided
that they should “borrow” Mr. Crab’s tubes and so each sphincter
proceeded to take a trash can, for that is in reality what the tubes
were.
Once in their
own yard, the three of them began discussing the details of creating
their rocket.
“We can cut
the bottoms out and push the tubes together to make one long
rocket ship tube,” said Hobo.
”Let’s make one long tube and use it as a rocket,” said Bobo.
“What’s a
tube?” said Mobo.
The cans were
heavy because the were full. Hobo only wanted the cans and he
didn’t want to be a bad neighbor.
“We need the
tubes, but we don’t need what’s in them,” said Hobo. “Let’s be good
neighbors and return the stuff inside these cans to Mr. Crabs.
Hobo opened
one of the heavy cans, and discovered that it was filled with what
looked like garbage. The smells that emitted from said can were
pungent and putrid owing partially to the fact that it had been a
warm week, and tomorrow was trash day, and partially to the fact that
Mr. Crabs did not believe in recycling.
“Whatever
Crabs was keeping in these cans has gone bad,” observed Hobo. “This
stuff smells.”
“This is some
smelly stuff,” said Bobo in agreement.
“P- U,” said
Mobo. “What’s that stank?”
“Oh, well. We
should still take it back to him, as he may want it,” said Hobo.
“One man’s meat is another man’s poison,” I always say. (He didn’t
always say it, but he had heard someone else saying they always said
it, the other day when someone saw him pick up and dine on a
discarded, half-eaten
roast beef sandwich in the park. At the time he didn’t understand
the comment. But he thought it currently, curiously appropriate.)
“We should
give him his stinky poison back,” said Bobo. “And get some meat.
I’m hungry.”
“Meaty, meat
meat,” said Mobo. “I want some meaty meat.”
So the three
of them emptied the cans and proceeded to carry the seeping, smelly garbage back
across the street to their neighbor’s front yard. Lucky for them,
Mr. Crabs was at work during the day and totally oblivious to what
was happening at his home.
After
returning their neighbor’s "property," the three sphincters resumed
their endeavors to rocket to the moon. Hobo decided that they
needed to cut the bottoms out of two of the tubes, so they did.
Then they stacked all three tubes together and made one large tube.
They found some paint in the garage and painted their rocket white.
Then they put U.S.A. on the side in big black letters. Hobo
concluded that U.S.A. was on every rocket he’d ever seen on T.V., so
it must be important.
“What’s U.S.A?”
asked Mobo.
“U.S.A. is an
abbreviation,” said Hobo. “Every letter stands for a word. Like
Under Sea Adventure.”
“But we
aren’t going under sea,” said Bobo. “We’re going in outer space. So
shouldn’t it say O.S.A. For Outter Space Adeventure?”
“I think the
U stands for Unidentified,” said Hobo. “Like in U.F.O.”
After a
lengthy discourse about what the abbreviation could possibly stand
for, Hobo decided that it didn’t matter, if they didn’t know what it
stood for, he was sure it was on every rocket he’d ever seen.
“After all,”
he reasoned. “It’s for the aliens anyway.”
After
painting their new rocket they stood it up. They gave it a pointy
lid, that they made out of aluminum foil and decided that it was
ready to man. To gain access to their new rocket they opened a
free-standing ladder next to it, and one by one they climbed up the
ladder and then down into the tube. The cans still smelled pretty
bad and weren’t particularly sanitary or comfortable. The first one
in was Mobo, who went to the bottom of the tube, then Bobo, and finally Hobo, who secured the rocket’s
lid.
“All systems
go,” said Hobo.
“All systems
go,” said Bobo.
“All stinky
go,” said Mobo who began fidgeting at the bottom of the rocket.
He was the most uncomfortable because both of the other sphincters
were sitting on his shoulders. As Mobo figited the unstable thing fell over and crashed with a large
thud.
“Wow, that
didn’t take as long as I thought it would,” said Hobo. "We must
have been moving at the speed of light. I really
hate those crash landings, though.”
He opened the
hatch and crawled out of the rocket, Bobo and Mobo cautiously
followed him out.
“This place
looks a lot like home,” said Bobo.
“That’s
because we must have entered some parallel universe on the moon,”
said Hobo. “I heard about these, but I never thought I’d see one.”
In the
meantime, Mr. Crabs was returning home from a long and tedious work
day to discover his trash cans had been stolen and his garbage
unceremoniously dumped on his expensively landscaped lawn. He was
furious and he believed he knew exactly who was responsible for the
mess.
“Those three
idiots are up to something again,” said Mr. Crabs. “I just know it.
Why’d they have to put a half-way house right across the street from
me?” He grumbled and snorted and huffed and puffed his way across
the street to see what had happened to his trash cans.
The three
sphincters were taking samples of the parallel universe and
exploring its fauna when Mr. Crabs arrived.
“Hey look,”
said Hobo. “It’s parallel universe Mr. Crabs.”
“What have
you three clowns done with my trash cans,” said Mr. Crabs. "It's
obvious you took them, the three of you smell like crap."
“We didn't
take anything from you,” said Hobo. “We just met you, now. Allow me
to introduce myself.”
This made Mr.
Crabs even more upset. “Haven’t I repeatedly told the three of you to stay
away from my house? You took my trash cans ..." As he said this he
noticed the three mangled cans splattered with white paint and the
letters U.S.A. sprawled across the yard.
"That's
impossible, we’ve never
been to your house,” insisted Hobo. "You have us confused with
someone else."
“We’re from
outer space,” said Bobo.
"That's
right," said Hobo. "We're from a parallel universe."
“Zoom! Zoom!”
said Mobo.
“AHHHHHHH!!!!!” said Mr. Crabs. And he ran back across the street.
The three
sphincters didn’t think it was safe to re-launch their rocket,
because it had split apart and become dented from their previous
crash landing, So they decided to stay in the parallel universe,
since everything was the same. They reasoned that their parallel
selves were probably living in their old universe, as they probably
decided to build a rocket at the same time and had the same
adventure.
Mr. Crabs
never got his trash cans back. He bought new cans that he now keeps
locked in his shed.
The End.
Moral: Don’t
live near a half-way house, if you can help it. And lock up your
trash cans, there’s a lot of nuts out there.
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