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Livin' the Good Life

BoB & Pumbaa


       The two sitting atop a hill during the peak of a meteor shower, overlooking the river- valley. Mostly just sitting back and speaking their minds on whatever they wanted, even if they didn't know anything about it. More and more of their evenings seem to have been spent speaking nothing more than nothing.
       A cool breeze swept up the hill, "You know, if this were my world," Bob started to say.
       "If this were your world, every restaurant would cater to your every desire," Pumbaa added taking another puff off his cigar.
       "If this were my world, every evening would be devoted to feelin' good, and every day would be for feasting like the gods. Never having to worry about any of that BS like heart failure, or getting immensly overweight," Bob stared at up at the sky, "Now if I were on one of those meteors, sailing through the sky at 17, 000 miles per hour, I wouldn't even give life (or even reality) another thought."
       "Yeah, well, watch out for the birds, ‘cuz they'll go right through you and damn that would hurt!," Pumbaa replied as a sudden silence blanketed the area, "Now this silence doesn't quite fit right. Even the occaisional boom from a close strike doesn't measure up to the sound in my room. I've heard that Jimmy was reported as missing for a week in ‘68, how about we have a concert for the asses."
       "A medieval festival? Won't people get suspicious?"
       "Naw, just a ‘new fashion' party. We could use the break you got. Got any favorites?"
       "Many a favorite come to mind, the Offspring, Aerosmith, but how do you plan on getting them here? The door to the 22nd is barely open wide enough for all the power cords. Besides why would we want to spoil it for them? I say we go downtown and find a couple drunk guys and give them a run for their money. Litterally."
       So the two left their perch on the hilltop and went to Tai Tastigon. Looking for the men they wished to mess with. After several seconds of searching, they had found what they sought out: two rather upscale looking citizens, both mostly drunk.
       "Good evenin' gents," Pumbaa said to them, "We have a game for you to try, are you interested?"
       "Wullll heck, I'mm game if'n y'are tooo," one tried in vain to appear sober.
       "I'm willing to bet this entire sack of gold, that you two guys couldn't beat us at a race," Bob said as Pumbaa turned to him, getting more and more aggitated.
       "Whut kinda racth would be a bein'?," the other made an attempt.
       "To see who could get the most votes for elected office."
       Little did they know that Bob had paid off every citizen who would be voting.
       "Well gentlemen, see you in eight hours. Whoever loses buys the other a brand new boat," Pumbaa laid the rules out.
     *     *     *

       Nobels and Baren, the two now mostly sober, candidates running around town, trying to collect support. Thier first stop, Mom.
       "Ma! I've decided to run for office and I want your support," Baren said as he walked into the house.
       "No!," his mother yelled exclaimed, still bewildered at the two men in dark robes that appeared at the door this morning, bearing gifts of money and good food.
       "Why?," Baren asked lokking as though his mother had just sold him to the cop shop.
       "Why? Why? Why do you always ask stupid questions? Why do we have to pay taxes? Why do we need milk? Why is de carriage on fiya? I'll tell you why and I'll even use small words, so you'll understand! You nevva come over to help your fatha. You nevva clean up that cottage of yours. Your always running around town, stealin' my rum in da middle of de night with that woman or women I see you with, whatever her or their names are. And you don't even come over to see me, your mother, your flesh and blood, except to ask for one of three things: money, rum, and a place to hide from the police. Maybe one of these times I'll lock you out. I've been in this house for thirty years and you don't even come to see me! I only live across da street, is it too much to wanna spend time with my own son? Schmuck."
       "But, b- b- b- but," he tried to defend himself.
       "No, no I'll just sit here all by myself. That way you might know to think before spitting out your b- b- b- buts. And another thing, your ass, why don't you diet? Try some of that Mister Fixit, Quick Fix Elixir. I'm tired of having to pop floor boards back every time you sit on de couch," she glared.
       "But my ass is just fine, or so I've been told," Baren left feeling very dejected.

       Nobles met the same fate only with less retort.
       Bob and Pumbaa sat atop the hill, again, speaking of how they would have their boat built. They sat and waited. Thinking they should probably go back to the INN, where they could get very intoxicated, or so Pumbaa hoped.
       "My friend, lets go to the INN, get plastered, and when those two Ouphes get back, we barf on them!," Pumbaa volunteered.
       "Go ahead, but I want to see their faces when they've returned, defeated and crying."
       Nobles and Baren both tried, in vain, to find someone who hadn't been paid off, without success. The two returned to the INN where Bob sat nursing a small amount of whiskey.
       "Can I buy you both a drink?"
       "Please . . . but tell me first, have you ever danced with Martha Stewart by a full moons light?," Nobles asked, drawing a pistol crossbow.
       "No, why is it fun?," Pumbaa appeared behind him with a rather large, rather gnarled looking club, "But I think you'll be the one doin' the dancin'!," Pumbaa hit the small crossbow over to Bob, who fired the bolt at Barens' hand which was reaching for another crossbow.
       "How did you guys manage to pay off everyone?," the two on the verge of tears.
       "Strictly based on the rules of . . .LIVIN' THE GOOD LIFE !!," Bob and Pumbaa exclaimed in unison.
       "The what?!"
       "The good life, you know, takin it as it comes, play with it, and then . . . the hell with it! Whatever makes you feel good!," Bob said slamming the shot of whiskey, "Besides we'll get the money back. . . "
       "And a brand new boat!"
       ". . . and a brand new boat. And we'll keep on doin' it again and again just because we know there are people like you."
*     *     *

       "Will I see you tomorrow night, atop the hill?," Pumbaa asked.
       "Probably so," Bob and Pumbaa walked to their respective bedrooms.
       "To the good life."
       "To the good life," Bob closed his door.
*     *     *

       The next evening, Pumbaa and Bob waddled up the hill.
       "Well, what should do tonight Bob?"
       "The same thing we've done for the last year, Live the Good Life!"

THE END

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