Joe Watched in horror. He watched, because there was nothing else he could do. After screaming ‘P.M.S. is best!’ Joe was transferred into the body of Bob, and Bob into Joe’s Body. While he was sitting on Bob’s shoulder as the ‘Angel’, he couldn’t interact with anything in the physical world. The only one who was aware of his existence, Bob, was completely ignoring him.
What was the source of Joe’s horror. Bob. Bob was the source. As Bob continued to sing annoying songs, he cleaned Joe’s room. Not just any cleaning, deep cleaning. The kind of cleaning that involves many large trash bags and the removal of years of gathered objects. Joe watched in dismay as his collection of slightly questionable magazines were the first to be flung into the bag. He watched with misty eyes as his collection of pirated movies was promptly disposed of. His eyes shook as, one-by-one, video games he had dedicated weeks, no, months and years to were treated like dirty paper towels.
With every decision that Bob made, Joe hated P.M.S. more and more (Ladies, can I get an Amen??). Rooting through Joe’s closet, Bob casually tossed an Elvis wig kit, complete with wing-tip sunglasses, over his shoulder, accurately landing it in the middle of the nearest open trash bag. Out went a collection of G.I. Joe action-figures (Bob mumbling something about hero’s not needing toys), a bag of marbles, comic books that have been read countless times and were a bit bent, a puzzle with 2 missing pieces, a 3rd grade trophy, an old basketball from his first game years ago were all sacrificed on the Altar of Cleanliness.
The tragedy continued as Joe grew numb to it all, patiently waiting until P.M.S. ran out of time and he could take back over and undo the damage that had been done. Dust bunnies the size of actual bunnies were removed from under the bed, corner desk, and closet. Then Bob slowly turned his head and looked at Joe. A creepy smile began to blossom on Bob’s face as his eyes shifted to the right a bit. Joe turned around to see what Bob was smiling about. Joe saw his computer.
“No. you. don’t!!” (desperate Joe)
Bob just smiled bigger. Practically skipping like a little school girl (think Dee dee...), Bob leapt into the comfortable gaming chair that was in front of Joe’s desk. With a shocking level of skill, Bob started the computer and began to dig into it’s grungy innards with a level of zeal usually only seen in the parking lot of Super-Bowl games in Southeastern U.S.A..
“No, no. This won’t do. Too much to deal with… I Know! …. Format!!” (Night of the Living Bob)
“…” (Joe…)
Joe just began to cry like a baby. As he watched Bob deftly begin the formatting procedure on his precious laptop. With a sigh of contentment, Bob hopped up, grabbed all the bags, and headed to the garbage cans outside. Joe’s eyes grew large as he realized that it was Tuesday and, it was 12:50. Why does this matter you ask? Because, Tuesday at 13:00 is when the trash truck came to his house every week.
“System! How much time is left on P.M.S.?” (Joe)
“11 Minutes, 15 seconds” (System)
As Bob threw the trash bags on the pile at the side of the street, Joe stood on pins and needles, as it were, waiting for the remaining time to tick by. Bob? He just looked around at his surroundings with his hands on his hips and a look of peace on his little, freaky, angelic, bubble headed face.
When 10 minutes passed, hope blossomed in Joe’s heart. Maybe the trash truck would be late. He had 1 minute and 15 seconds left until he could make a desperate effort to save his childhood memorabilia. 50 seconds more, 40, 30… Then Joe heard a horrible noise; the deep diesel rumble from the engine of the trash truck. This particular rumble was familiar to Joe due to the fact that it had often reminded him that he had forgotten to take the trash to the street. The trash company rolled up, two guys jumped down, and began to throw the trash in the back of their trash compacting vehicle.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Bob, in Joe’s body, helped them.
Joe was pulling out his hair as he watched. On the side of this truck was a big red button; a button that would cause the hydraulics of the truck to begin the process of crushing his precious childhood. As the last bag of his memories was chunked into the back of the truck, Bob began to walk toward the red button. At the same time a system notification popped up.
10
9
“I’ll start the compactor for you, clear your hands out of the way”. (Bob)
8
“Okay, thanks Joe, that’s nice,... and rare, of you to do that. (Trash dude 1)
7
6
“All clear” (Trash dude 2)
5
4
3
“Time for a fresh start, Joe” (Bob)
2
Bob smiled at Joe as he made a fist and happily bopped the big red button starting the hydraulics in motion.
1
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This marks the end of P.M.S. is Best!
We hope you have enjoyed the journey!
Isn’t P.M.S. great!!!
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With a flash, Joe found himself transported back into his body, and Bob reappeared on his left shoulder wiping his hands off on one another as if he had done a great job and was now finished. Joe’s hand slowly slid off the red button like a snail falling off a wet wall. The truck drove off and Joe just stood there as the two trash dudes waved and smiled. He stood there for a good 5 minutes as the sun continued to bring warmth to the early afternoon; an afternoon that Joe deeply regretted.
Slowly he turned back around and lumbered into the house, down the hall, past a sleeping potato, and into his now spotlessly clean room.
“Ding! Formatting done.” (Laptop)
It started with a low, rumbling grunt that transformed into a repressed scream as Joe flopped his face into his neatly placed pillow and allowed all of his frustrations to be given birth through his vocal cords. (I will not describe the next 30 minutes of Joe’s life, because I wish to leave this a book that young people can still read.)
With ragged breaths, Joe lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Bob stood to the side watching him in silence, sweating. Bob was really sweating bad; 'That's strange, I must be very nervous'. This had not gone at all like he thought it would. He had pictured a training montage would follow along with appropriately motivating music. Bob had imagined leading his young chickling of a hero into a new phase of life that was all about self-improvement and growth. Maybe running up some steps while shadow boxing, or trying to split a waterfall with his aura.
Bob was wrong; very, very wrong. Bob was as wrong as rain on a wedding day, or a free ride when you’ve already paid. No, I’m not being ironic. (but that song is now stuck in your head, isn’t it? Thanks Alanis!) Bob realized somewhere down in his twisted, angelic soul; that he had messed up pretty big. There was no revelation, inspiration, or sudden breakthrough happening in this room, clean as it was. Bob smiled slightly, lopsidedly, proud of his cleaning skills. But, he was still sweating profusely.
“um..”, Bob started to say.
“YOU!” Joe growled out. “What have you done! Who gave you permission to do all of that??”
“Um, you did?” Bob squeaked out. “P.M.S. is best?” Bob said softly as he sheepishly pumped his fist in the air like the fan boy he was of his own system. “Come on old buddy, old pal.” Bob parroted what Joe had said earlier. “I thought we were a team and all, going to save the world together!”
“Save the world!?! Save the … you know what, forget about it. How do I get rid of you?? System, get rid of yourself” (Angry Joe)
“you can’t…” (Bob)
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With regret, dear user, you cannot
cancel, void, or return this system.
It is yours until death. Is user
saying he would like to die?
YES NO
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“NO!” Joe quickly answered now also sweating profusely.
They sat in silence for an additional 10 minutes as both of them deeply thought through their recent life choices.
“Look, the least I can do is reward you some points” (Bob)
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Ding! You have received 5 GD points
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There was no reaction from Joe. Bob looked worried
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Ding! You have received an additional 5 GD points
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Still no reaction
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Ding! You have received an additional 10 GD points
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Joe looked at Bob. “Just shut up for a while, I need to think. In the meantime, I already promised Mom I would go to the grocery store, so just sit there and don’t say anything. In fact, can you disappear for a while?”
Meekly, Bob bowed his head and disappeared with a little glitter filled poof, completely with a tinkling sound effect.
Joe looked around his clean room, sighed deeply, turned and left as he prepared to go to the store for his mother, Claire.
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Ding! You currently have 25 GD points
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