...with special guest appearance by...

The Modickled Wheeb of Goom™

Yes, it's  AfterMan® -- strange visitor from this very planet who came to Now from Then, "' evviboddih wishin' he go back again", as they say. Of course, as we all know, as far as  AfterMan® is concerned, "evviboddih" can just go straight to hell, don't be passin' GO, an' don't be collectin' no 200 dollah. But he's not holding his breath.

No, not 
®. These daze,  AfterMan® is like time & tide... he waits for no man. Of course, he's usually waiting for at least three women, but never mind about that. When it comes to de WimminFolk, no man is an island, and every man is in AyeLand... that is, if he's got any sense, some halfway decent personal hygeine, and an honest desire to be civilized. Yes, it's true folx... the smart man has plenty o' WimminFolk festooning his reality... but he has to say "Yes" a lot. Get used to it dudes, or go back to hanging around with uncivilized three-leggers.

Anyhow, when we last left our hero at the Throes of Pompany, he was scratching his nether regions -- figuratively speaking, of course -- wondering whether to flush the Conventional Wisdom™ or go for breakfast. We now rejoin him at the crucial moment of his decision...

"OK, varmint... I know you're in there. C'mon out with yer hands up, and no grumblin' about it."

The Wheebster was typically defiant. "ESADMF!"


"Whaddya, new or something? I said ESADMF!  'R'ya tellin' me ya dunno what ESADMF means?"

"Yeah...", the AfterDude admitted.

"(Jeez... what a boogerbrain...) Well, I'm not comin' out an' draw ya a picture or anything... at least not while you're holdin' that ego blaster."

(Crunch, crunch...gulp) "Blecchhhh.... OK, it's gone."

"Oh right, sure it is... just like that. 'OK, it's gone.' Like I'm s'posed to believe that?"

"No, really...(buuurrrrppppp)...I ate it."

"Right. I'll make a note in my lab log. I'm staying put."

"But I'm supposed to be doing something!"

"Well, you can go find something else to supposed to be doin'. I'm not budgin' until..."


Neither one of them saw the
Blinding Burst of Reality beam come in from the swamp behind them. The BBOR-beam had frequently cleansed this part of Bob, but neither  AfterMan® nor his imaginary nemesis suspected it would show up now, on a Saturday morning, especially after AfterMan had gone to all the trouble of selecting Eight Miles High as the soundtrack tunage.

But it didn't matter now. The BBOR-beam had flushed the whole thing. 
AfterMan® and The Modickled Wheeb of Goom™ became figmentized in the Eternal Now of Imagination, never to resolve the age-old question, "Huh?"

Some said it was a tragedy: "He still had his music in him." Others debated endlessly that it wasn't "his" music, any more than anybody's music is anybody's music. (But what do you expect from a bunch of nihilist primary commies, anyway.) Still others pined away shamelessly for any clues as to whether 
AfterMan® might indeed have gone for a corner booth at the Rosebud Diner and a plate of John the Greek's famous scrambled eggs ("Best eggs this side of Owsley's lab"), or flushed the felonious Flakey Foont, Keeper of the Conventional Wisdom™ (Motto: "I'm a lyin' sack of..." well, you know).

Rejoice, all ye 
AfterMan® fans... rejoice, I say unto thee! Based on the lastest scientific research, at last the truth is revealed.  AfterMan®, having porked up pretty good onna counta married life, is currently working on a deal to have GOODYEAR stenciled on his sides. Which pretty much oughta tell you about the breakfast thang. Flakey Foont may or may not be seeking professional help, but there's no particular urgency in knowing one way or the other.  Nobody believes anything he says anyway. As  AfterMan® ultimately concluded, "After all, the truth will eventually show up in his behavior."

Indeed. You can run, but you cannot hide.

So, the whole debate was a false alternative. 
AfterMan® went for breakfast, and flushed the Foontster. After all,  AfterMan® was after the truth, and he found it at just about the same time it found him, there on the edge of the swamp in AyeLand, where no good man sez no to Bob. Yes, it's true... AfterMan® chose a stout breakfast, a pipe full of Raven's Wing, and Aye'll get to Scotland before ye. As far as the flushing goes, he eventually dumped Flakey Foont into the Bozo Bin, along with the other notorious deprecators of internal divinity. Of course, we're referring to The FatMan, Hopalong Crotchety, Princess Mindacity, and a host of other individuals who... er, could look forward to a great deal of personal growth — you know... bozos who never learned not to stomp all over good people just 'cause they make a few mistakes. Including themselves. (Motto: "Boy, we're really assholes!") We've stopped waiting for their report. We suspect that they are still dodging the BBOR-beam.

AfterMan® can still be seen actively seeking the BBOR-beam, having become considerably more philosophical about its ultimate effects. Sez he, "Funny thing about Reality... without it, you always lose. With it, even when you lose, you win." It's just the way Bob works.

Kids...Stay tuned for more exciting, thrill-packed episodes in

The Saga of AfterMan!

Back to VitoSpace