Hey, guys! I just kind of saw the this roll out before me with that line in "Southern Comfort," and I said, man, now wouldn't that just be kinda funny? This is the result. I welcome your comments. Feel free to check out my page. :) And don't forget to enjoy!
Now presenting:
"The New Bobby"
~"You're the new Bobby?"- Sam Winchester, Supernatural, Episode 8.6~
It was sometime after the lunch rush when a man walked into a bar. He was an average sort of guy and proceeded in an average sort of way to ignore the quiet (except for the chatter of the old geezers who were waiting to process their Bean-o) and the walls that seemed almost tagged to sit down on a bar stool.
The bartender didn't stop in his wiping down of the bar to ask, "Can ah getcha anythin'?"
"A beer," the man said simply, examining the worn wood of the bar.
The bartender, an older man, perhaps in his late forties by appearance, reached under the bar and pulled out a beer. He popped the cap in a practiced motion and slid the beer down the bar.
"Yur nawt from 'round these parts, are 'ya?" he asked.
"Not really," the man replied.
"Whatcha here for? Business? Cain't be pleasure." The bartender chuckled at his own joke, pulling out glasses from under the bar to be polished next.
He was setting them out in a line when his customer answered, "I'm not sure. I was told to look for a 'Bobby'."
The bartender paused in picking up a glass. "Bobby," he said, enunciating his next words very carefully, "The Bobby?"
"Yeah." The customer shuffled a little in his jacket, looking uncertain. "I guess. You know him?"
The bartender bent down to retrieve the glass a little too nonchalantly to be effortless. "Yeah, I know 'im. Lives just over the border in thuh nex' county over. Just hop on thuh highway and head thataway," said, jerking thumb to the north. "Lives on a tiny road called 'Old Mills.' First on the left. Cain't miss it."
"Well," the customer set his half-finished beer down on the bar . "Thanks, I guess."
The bartender chuckled and relaxed as he started to polish the glasses. "Doan' you mind. Anyone who's lookin' fer Bobby cain't be that bad a sort."
The customer paused as he stood to head for the door. He turned his head back to the bartender. "How do you know I'm not… another sort?"
The bartender laughed out loud. "Boy, you think that other sort could even get in here?" he asked.
The customer looked around, his eye catching on decorations he had dismissed when he walked in.
"No," he said. " I guess not."
It took John forty minutes to find Old Mills. He thanked his lucky stars that this was a county that bothered to label its roads, or he might never have found it. He couldn't see a house from the highway but took the first left anyway- a dirt road so small two cars couldn't have passed at the same time. It' was another five minutes before he saw a garden and a house. Well, a house, definitely- one of those big wooden affairs with a wrap-around porch. As for the garden- John thought some of that could have been witch-hazel and yarrow and a whole bunch of other stuff that certainly wasn't petunias. It sprawled sort of abstractly and sort of everywhere, except for the ring around the porch and the spot where John managed to park his Honda.
John couldn't find a doorbell, so he had to open the screen door to knock properly.
"Who is it?" The voice that answered was rough and loud and, as far as John could tell, right on the other side of the door.
John leaned in closer to the door. "I'm looking for Bobby," he called back.
The door opened abruptly, and John almost fell, but there was a hand holding a shot glass of something clear in his face that stopped him.
"Drink this."
John took it from the hand and downed it. It didn't do anything. In fact, if he hadn't known any better, he would have said it was water.
He handed it back to the guy. He looked younger than the bartender by ten years- but, my God, did anyone in this place not have that accent?
"Are you Bobby?" he asked.
"Yeah," he said, gesturing John inside and letting the screen door slam shut, "Call me Jim."
John followed, seeing the symbols that covered the walls like wallpaper. He could have sworn that one was by the window at the bar, too…
"Why?"
"Why?" said the Bobby, "That's my name, you idjit."
He sat down in the wooden chair across from Bobby/Jim. "I thought you were Bobby."
"Naw, son," said Jim as he settled into a saggy floral armchair, "That's just a title."
"Why 'Bobby?'"
Jim sighed. "Lemme tell you a story…" he said, and he began a tale of a man who learned something from experience and then learned a little more, through odd connections, and odder books, and still more experience. Then, he learned so much that people began coming to him for help. So many people, in fact, that he became the center of one of the most obscure and important networks of people to ever exist.
And of how this man knew two boys, brothers, who were raised into a life by their father, who was a good man but distant dad. He told a story about brothers who stopped the apocalypse, and then saved the world several times over. He told of how this man was like a father to these brothers, and that he died helping them. This man's death left a rather large part of the very important network missing, so someone stepped up and became the new 'him.' It just so happened that everyone began using the man's name to describe the new guy-or rather, the new 'Bobby.'
Jim leaned forward on his elbows. "Now," he asked, "Did that answer yer question?"
"Yes, sir," said John.
"You got anymore?"
"No, sir."
"Good," said Jim, settling back again. "I ain't got time for stupid questions. Whas' yer problem, boy?"
John shook himself a little and began, "Well, I…"
El fin
Anyway, like I said, please feel free to comment (actually, I LOVE it! Comment, comment, comment!) If you're a Harry Potter fan, you can leave me your house, and I'll add it to the House Cup competition on my profile page.
Until we meet again, fair readers!
With love,
PenNameless1994