Your Uncle Bob is getting dressed for the occasion that matters most in the year. That’s right, kiddies — Halloween! So what better way than to share the wondrous story of amazement that is The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidalfrom 10/29/19 — 11/2/19 for your Amazon Kindle.
There are no nougat, caramel, nuts (well Bob is a bit off his rocker, but you know that’s just how he is). However, it contains zero calories, sugar-free, gluten-free, all-natural, and no additives except for what life adds. There’s also no razor blades so you parents out there can rest assured that you’re getting a real treat.
Look, there isn’t a sugarcoated pill that’s swell enough to swallow when it comes to suicide; nor is mental illness a joke. A lot of times it gets swept under the rug like everything else going on in the world. Through the stories dark humor and take on the matter, it’s a self-projection of the number of times that I wanted to experiment in certain situations.
Happy Independence Day, folks. Or rather, ‘Happy-Wear-Your-USA-Flag-Bikini Day and Shoot Shit Off All Fucking Day.’ Yay!
Heaven forbid if you decide to have to, you know go to sleep early because you have a job; one that requires you to be up early as that son of a bitch rooster crowing, or if you not wearing an some Old Navy USA Flag shirt, or dislike the sounds of fireworks going off until one in the goddam morning, and your dog is howling. Then morning comes around, and you’re left with your eyes sagging lower than your nuts on your left leg because your kids couldn’t sleep. But you know, you’re the inconsiderate and un-American one if you disagree.
Hardly anyone remembers what this day means or what it represents. But since it’s a day off from the weekly work grind, folks sure do remember it then. A bunch of mindless drones.
I suppose it’s not their fault, entirely. We’ve been continually getting more dumb with each generation, that is, the mass population. You get a few bright bulbs here and there, but it’s a small number compared to the majority.
I bet you’re wondering “Bob, what are you doing with your 4th of July?” Well, bucko, lemme tell you all about it. I’m planning on shooting a bunch of shit off until who knows when. I’ve got it all planned out. Y’know, being that asshole of a neighbor. That’s the goal this year anyway.
The day started off simple enough. No itches but a ton of anxiety. We were to have folks over and make it a big shindig. Honestly, I just wanted to be left alone or go out somewhere by myself. It is what it is, though.
So we had everyone over and gathered everyone up for a show off of who’s firework ego was greater. Then I remembered, I hate the Fourth of July. After getting tired of who could fire off the bigger grade of booms, I thought it was time for my show.
I stood up and wandered over to the launcher and readied everything up. I was going to give everyone the show of a lifetime and I didn’t care. Everyone was there, all eyes on dear old Bob. At least the kids were inside playing video games.
Well, I decided to take a few M-80s and string them together (for maximum boom and to take someone’s head off. Namely mine.). I lit them and dropped them in the makeshift mortar launcher that Ted had made. Then I waited for the boom. Let me tell you, it was a hell of a rush. Y’know when you watch Mission Impossible and watching that fuse go? Hearing it sizzle, waiting for the boom. Well, I made some ‘modifications’ to the fuses, because I knew damn well that someone would try to be the hero. Sure as shit, someone tried, but I got the final discharge off. As bad as that sounds, it’s not as bad as the next bit. When I say I got the final discharge, I had my mouth open. So, you can imagine as soon as those suckers shot up, caught them in the mouth and POP goes I went.
When the day reset, the itch had begun, and I figured I’d start with the fireworks show and see what other fun ways I could off myself.
So I went with a fistful of M-80s—that was plenty painful. At least no one tried to be a hero that go around. Next up was a bunch of firecrackers—swallowed them whole. That was a spicy meatball; I’ll tell you. I know, you’re probably thinking, “Bob, that’s impossible.” No, no it’s not. It’s possible, and I do not recommend trying it. I ended up losing my hand on top of getting my insides tore the fuck up.
Those were the fun ones for that part of the day. The others were more like the grilling aspect.
* * *
The few guys I was having over wanted to have a grill out. I figured, bah, why not. Wouldn’t be too bad. Then everyone was launching their shit. Dogs were barking; cats were going crazy, kids were screaming, it was just a clusterfuck.
Well, I had about enough of it. Sure, people were having a blast and a grand old time, but old Bob? Nah, he wanted no more of it. I had just put the burgers on the grill when it happened. It was automatic I’d say, but then again, it wasn’t the first time where I went “fuck it” and just did what I wanted to do.
So, Bob’s burgers are on the grill, wandered on over to the gas can in the garage. Walked out to the middle of the street and poured it all over me. Then I flicked my lighter and toasted myself to a Happy 4th of July. A lot of people just stood there in shock that they just saw their quiet neighbor torch himself in front of everyone. Some attempted to be quick on their feet, but dear old Bob had a backup plan for that. You see I placed a few firecrackers in my pockets. You know, for that added pizzazz and flair. I must say, though, it wasn’t a great way to go. Self-barbecue. It’s not what it’s cracked up to be, and it hurts like hell. Eventually, though, your brain shuts you down, and well, your body gets well done. In my case, though, I was more medium-well.
I did a few different takes on the day. Each reset I was at a different friend’s place. Each time was a different way to go. M-80 in the gas tank of the car driving into the creek, playing Foghat’s Slow Ride. I made a custom M-80 vest and wandered out back of my pal Sid’s place and lit up, like, well the Fourth of July. At Jerry’s, I fashioned a few makeshift cherry bombs and made it look like I was taking a sip of beer, only to have my face and hand blown off. Then there was Terry’s place. We went into the woods, and I had decided that I would be a Wicker Man. So, I outfitted myself with I don’t remember how many and kinds of fireworks but when we got to the spot and unloaded. I told the guys I had a show for them. They all laughed and said “Alright, Bob. Can’t wait.” That night I lit myself up and gave them a presentation to remember.
The last time was where I had no itch and where I wasn’t really in a mood for offing myself. Crazy I know. I decided to spend it with my family and enjoy the time. That night, my wife and I got to coupling. In the end, it was a good day. Hardly anyone shot their shit off. It was pretty nice. Later on, though, as it rolled into the 5th, I ended up dying in my sleep.
I know, I know, you’re thinking “Bob, you didn’t kill yourself?” You’re right. I was amazed as well. Still, at least I shot my rocket off, and well, it ended up being a happy ending.
Well, until the other stuff happened to me but that’s something you can find out for yourself.
I wanted to tell you about a free Kindle book deal that you can get just by clicking this link.
What’s the book? It’s the dark comedy, The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal. My social and therapeutic experiment I did a wee while back. It’s the novella about Bob and his suicidal tendencies, and the results of each death that plaguing a much bigger picture. The ups and downs is struggling with depression (so bad that it can cripple a person) and also the portrayal of “social suicide,” where you kill knowingly kill your social life because you’re so fed up with your fellow human beings.
There’s murder, there’s wit, and probably some parts that will make your sides (or pants) split. Be amazed. Be disappointed? Be ENTERTAINED! With Bob and all his thoughts.
So sit back, relax, and enjoy a bit of downtime with Bob.
Until next time,
P.S. I’m working on a new short story… possible novella involving the undead (yay!) and am fabricating the new season of The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God. I’m excited to share them all with you. /BearSlap to the face. I’m out!
I am still adding stuff and being Frankenstein here with the site. Some things might be broken, some might not be. Headaches and alcohol would typically be present, but since I gave up on mass-induced alcoholism, it’s just headaches. Hoo.
The store still has some work to do, and the transfer is being quite difficult…but that’s alright. Thinks will get worked out and it’ll be behind me.
There’s Alpha testing for (WoW) World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth to be done, and a mythic plus (M+) dungeon that needs to be done tonight. I also am compiling some other things to get up on the site and store.
Another excerpt of Lilah’s Guide to Hoyle will also be making a stop, just to annoy you all and maybe increase its preorder count by one. 😉 That will be posted Soon™.
Lastly, tomorrow I am getting mini-pies and they’ll be delicious. Mmm.
I thought my life was done; when you and your mom almost died.
Darkness took over and nearly ruined my life. I was very blue.
I realized that nothing was going to change by sitting on my hands. I made a change and started to get better. You grew up so much since the last year; I knew the kind of kid you’d grow to be.
I watched you grow and saw how you made people smile. Your laughs were contagious, and soon you’d start school. I still struggled with myself and fought with my mind. The guilt I harbored was massive and cut me to the core.
Your sassiness was profound. You were the perfect blend of your mother and I. Without a doubt, you and your mother brought me joy. I was still wading through the darkness. I’d grit my teeth and fight the pain to stay alive.
Enduring the rollercoaster ride as I stumbled along to keep control. I’d lose my way here and there; fighting myself and getting lost in my abysmal dismal thoughts. Your mom and I struggled to get you the equipment you needed and stood against those who would deny you. It was a taste of something we knew a life this way we would endure, but we knew that together, we could do it. I strayed and started to get lost in alcohol to try to help numb the pain. I had built up a wall with flesh, bone, and despair bricks.
This was the year when you found out you were going to be a big sister. It would be a new adventure. I wanted to be ready. As hard as I tried, I know I could have done better. Even as I got help and started to show improvement, I’d take two steps forward and fall two more. I struggled to see the joy of having a perfect family. I often found myself outside looking to heaven.
Ah, your sassiness was so contagious that your baby sister caught on quick. You slowly opened up to having a sister. I was starting to find my way out of the darkness. My alcoholism would soon be kicked to the curb. I took up arms to further better myself: eating, working out, making an effort to be there for you and your sister. You were growing up too fast for your mom and me. The tears I once shed for the memory of a tragedy, were now tears of joy of having you still. I was beginning to let go all the feelings I had harbored, especially, hate.
Soon, we would leave our old home and move. It was a new start for us all. I relapsed and retreated into the darkness. I had found some comfort, but the feelings gnawed at me. The realizations and truths uncovered left me scared for us. It would be some time, but I would finally emerge victoriously. I improved my body and mind and would find a balance. I took up the craft that I believed I was destined for. I’ve watched you grow up this far and wonder where has it all gone—time?
The darkness has subsided and I am myself. I still can’t believe that it’s been ten years. You’ve become such a beautiful girl with a contagious laugh and smile. You’re our world and more, and even though you can be a crabby crab, we love you very much. It’s taken me this long to finally find the strength to cast off my shackles of guilt and blame. I can smile and laugh and be myself. I’ve come to manage my PTSD, depression, and anxiety. I’ll keep fighting and being here for you, mom, and your sister. I know it’s just another year to some, but you’ll always be our little bugaboo and pumpkin. Happy birthday to our Princess Zelda on your tenth.