Bob the Blob

BOB THE BLOB

Enola looked disgusted. “Ew!” she said shaking her head. “How many times have I told you that is not cool?”

Bob cocked his head and looked at her. “Seventy-six. Seventy-seven if you count right now.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Exactly. And yet you continue to pick your nose and look at it.” She looked frustrated. “Why?”

They were at home, relaxing, watching television. Bob shrugged. “I’m curious. This is the first time I’ve ever had a nose. It’s interesting to see what gets trapped up in there.” He tapped the side of his nose. “Besides, I’ve seen Bryson do this exact same thing. Why don’t you yell at him?”

“Because he’s four, and I’m not his mother.”

“You’re not my mother either, but you still correct me like I am a child.”

“Because you act like one.” Enola got up, grabbed the box of Kleenex from the washroom, and handed it to Bob. “At least use a Kleenex, please.”

*****

Bob was not … human. In fact he wasn’t even from this universe. Enola had run into him—or more literally, over him—one night while driving home.

She’d been coming home from her friend Gussie’s house, taking the backroads because they were faster. She was speeding home when the KA-THUMP, KA-THUMP jolt her car made told her she’d hit something. Twice.

When Enola jumped out of the car, she ran to the back, repeating the mantra, “Please don’t be an animal. Please don’t be an animal. Please don’t be an animal.”

What she found behind her car was definitely not an animal. It was a weirdly green blob of dirt. But not exactly dirt … more like opaque gelatin—all squishy looking. Kind of like the green junket pudding her grandma made her eat, so gross.

But this blob was big—about the size of a turkey. If it hadn’t been soft, it would have done some serious damage to the underside of her car. She could see her tire tracks right through the middle of the goo, its mass squirting out on either side of the tread. Just to make sure her car hadn’t sustained any damage, she bent over and had a look under the back end for damage.

“Ow!”

Enola started, whacking her head on the bumper. She shot up and looked around, while checking for blood where she’d bashed her head. No blood, just a nice bump forming behind her ear.

“What?” she said, standing up slowly.

“Ow!” the blob repeated. “That hurt!”

Enola figured she’d hit her head harder than she thought because it sounded like the pile of goo on the road was talking to her.

Now everyone knows that if your road-kill starts talking to you, you should get the hell out of there, fast! But Enola suffered from a life-long affliction of FOMO, and a smaller than average fear centre in her brain. Instead of fight or flight, Enola was one hundred percent check it out. She’d be the person in a horror movie who hears a noise in the basement, and goes down anyways, even though she knows the villain is down there. Sure she’d die, but it would have been worth it if she got to check it out.

She looked around, making sure that she was alone, and that she was actually talking to the blob under her car. The road was deserted, the streetlights forming pools of light on the road, breaking up the darkness. There were no homes, just a couple of farms a ways back. So, just her and the goo.

She cautiously made her way closer, and looked down. “Uh, did you say something?” she asked the mess on the road. She bent to get a closer look.

Goo can’t talk, right?

“Yes.”

“OY!” Enola jumped back. Then she looked at the blob. “You talk!” She was stunned. And, again, she should have been frightened, but instead, she was curious.

“Yes, goo can talk,” said the blob.

Enola looked at it. “But you don’t have a mouth.”

She could have sworn she heard it sigh. “And you’re not made of ectoplasm. We all can’t be perfect.”

She bent closer. “What are you?” she asked, truly interested in the answer.

There was that sigh again. “I’m a visitor.” Pause. “From another galaxy.”

“SHUT UP!” yelled Enola, smiling at the mess on the road. “Really? An E.T.!” She paused. “That means extra terrestrial.”

“I am aware,” said the blob.

“An alien life force? Like from space?” Then she looked around. “Are you punking me?” she said, squinting at the gelatinous pile on the road.

“A assure you I am not punking you. I am lost. And now also spread all over the asphalt behind your vehicle.”

Enola squinted. “How come you can speak English?”

Sigh. “Because I’m a higher lifeform, and can learn any language.”

How much does this slime love itself? she thought.

“The slime does love itself. Why shouldn’t I?”

Embarrassment galloped across Enola’s features. Then she focussed on the far more interesting, but decidedly disturbing, fact.

“You can read my mind?”

“Yes, I can.”

“I do not like that! Not one little bit! Please turn it off!” She crossed her arms across her chest, looking stern.

The slime was quiet for a moment. “I’m sure I can accommodate your request by choosing not to communicate telepathically. But I want you to know talking aloud is so much more work. I don’t have a mouth, so I have to send vocalizations out through my lifeform.”

Enola leaned in and looked closer. It was right. There was no mouth. Or eyes. Or ears. Or nose. Or body, for that matter. It looked like an inert pile of green goo.

“We have to get me off the road before another car comes along,” said the blob.

“How?” asked Enola.

“I need you to move your car so that I can transform.” The pile jiggled slightly.

“Transform in what?” asked Enola, bending over to look at it closely.

There was a pause. “I guess I will have to be a human, won’t I? You are the most intelligent beings on Earth, correct?”

Enola shrugged her shoulders. “I guess?”

“Now, if you could move your car.”

Enola moved her vehicle up and over to the side of the road. By the time she returned back to the blob, it was now a man. A naked man.

“You’re a man! And, uh, you’re also naked.”

“Yes, I suppose I am. I am a bit chilly standing here.” He looked at his naked body, , then at Enola. “I suspect that people are expected to wear clothes on Earth.”

“They are.”

“Can you get me some?”

“Sure, but it’s late, and I don’t know where I’d get guy clothes at this time of the night. We’ll go shopping tomorrow.”

“Well then, take me to your habitat. I need to explore this new form.” He looked at his hands, mystified. “Huh. Shorter than tentacles, but very useful.” He snapped his fingers together like crab claws.

Enola went to the back of her car, and got a blanket and a jacket she had in the back. The blanket for the blob-man to sit on, cuz, eww, he was naked. And although the jacket would be far too small for him to wear, he could use it to cover his man-parts. No one needed to see that.

The blob settled into the passenger seat, and Enola started up the car and drove towards her home.

“Hmmmm. A primitive method of transportation. But adequate.”

Enola ignored the jab. She was curious. “My name’s Enola. What’s yours?”

The blob made a bunch of sounds that Enola knew she couldn’t replicate. In fact, she was pretty sure no human on Earth would be able to say it.

“I can’t say that. No way!” She shook her head. “How about we call you Bob. Bob the Blob.” She giggled at her own joke.

“That is rather demeaning and belittling,” Bob the Blob said. “I am, after all, in human form. I should be treated with the respect that my new form deserves.”

“Fine,” she said, taking her eyes off of the road to look at him. She was embarrassed. I guess extra terrestrials have feelings, too,she thought, turning back to the road.

“We do.”

She swung her gaze towards him. “I asked you to not read my mind!”

“My apologies,” he said, swivelling his new head towards her, rather awkwardly.

Enola moved on. “How about just Bob?” She turned her eyes back to the road.

“Why Just Bob?”

“No, no, no. I will call you Bob. Forget about the Blob part of your Earth name. Okay?”

“Bob,” he said, nodding his wobbly head slightly. “Yes. That will do nicely.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence, each consumed in their own personal thoughts.

When they arrived and were in the house, Enola found an over-sized hoodie, and a pair of old track pants that Bob managed squeeze into.

“This will have to do until we can get you some clothes that fit,” she said, holding out the clothes.

He looked towards her, but his gaze wandered, his eyes roving around, out of control. Enola figured he was having trouble getting used to the brightness of the room. And having eyes.

“I must say that I prefer to be unencumbered by clothing.”

“Where we are in this world, people wear clothes.”

And so started Enola’s tutelage of Bob’s do’s and don’ts on Planet Earth.

*****

“I have concerns,” he’d said to Enola the next day. “I feel weak, and I don’t have the strength that I had yesterday.”

“Did you eat anything today?”

“Eat?”

“Yes. Food.” She mimed putting food into her mouth. “You need food to power the body that you’re inhabiting.”

“You mean that I am not regenerative?”

“No. You need food and water.”

“Interesting,” he said, nodding his head again, which Enola noticed was steadier, less bobblehead-like.

When she’d made him some soup and toast (she wasn’t sure how much his body could consume, being so new and all), he face-planted into the bowl of soup, and slurped. Needless to say, he inhaled a lot of tomato soup up his nose, and ended up spitting and snorting it all over the kitchen. After she cleaned up Bob, the kitchen, and herself, Enola took the opportunity to teach Bob about cutlery.

“You hold it in your hand, dip it into the soup, and put the spoon with the soup on it in your mouth.”

“My hands.” He held his hands in front of himself. He made lobster hands again, “Hmmm. Very useful.”

Enola showed him how to hold a spoon.

“Ahhh,” said Bob. “Clever!'

*****

“Bob! Get your hands out of your pants!”

“Why?”

“Because that’s not something that you do in public. Wait ’til you’re alone in your room.”

“I’ve never had genitalia before. They are very interesting. And fun. I like the way they feel.”

Enola looked at him. “Sure you do, but dude, not in public. You can get arrested. And it’s nasty.”

*****

“Oh my God, Bob! What the absolute hell!”

He’d looked at her. “What?” confusion clouding his face.

“You farted. And you stink. It’s gross!” she said getting up to open a window.

“But I had intestinal gas that was painful. I had to release it. You don’t expect me to hold it in, do you?” He looked at her, waiting for her answer.

“Holy crap, Bob! Leave the room when you’ve got to fart. Nobody wants to smell it!”

“But I didn’t feel well. I was all bloated and uncomfortable. It needed to come out, immediately.”

“I get it, but leave the room. Please! Go to the washroom. Or go outside. Just don’t do it around other people.”

Bob looked at her. “You don’t leave the room when you have to flatulate. Why should I be expected to remove myself?”

That was true, she didn’t always remove her self. “But I don’t smell as horrible as you.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Enola,” he said. “But at some point you’ve got to stop blaming the alien for the rank air in the room.”

*****

“Bob!” Enola whispered, urgently, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him backwards. “Stop smelling people!”

They were in line at the grocery store, waiting to check out.

“But it’s so interesting! There are so many different scents!”

Enola looked at him. “What happened the last time someone caught you smelling them?”

“The police were called, and I was cautioned.” He looked at Enola, and smiled. “But the smells, Enola. I’ve never had a nose before. It’s amazing!”

“Don’t do it! It’s rude, and super, super creepy!”

“But it’s so wonderful …”

“It’s too CREEPY, Bob! Stop it!”

******

Enola looked over at Bob. He still held the box of Kleenex on his lap.

He turned to her. “You know, Enola, his body is interesting. So is this world. There’s so … much.” He smiled. “I’m going to miss everything when I leave. Especially you.”

“And I’m going to miss you, too, Bob.”

They went back to watching The Real Housewives of New Jersey.