"Maybe a frozen banana will cheer me up. Yeah, a frozen banana," he said to no one in particular, eliciting a few peculiar looks from pedestrians. GOB ignored these and made a bee-line towards the banana stand.
"Give me a GOB!" he requested grandly.
"What?"
GOB took a second to realize that the tall pimply kid behind the counter wasn't his nephew. Only then did he recollect back to the recent unpleasantness that resulted in a lot of commotion, a few arrests, and Michael and his son sailing off to God knows where.
"A GOB, that's what I call a double-dipped banana with extra toppings."
"I don't think we can double-dip the bananas. Nuts are 25 cents."
"Just give me the banana with nuts," GOB demanded. He admired a blond with long, tan legs walking a little shih'tzu while the kid filled his order.
"That'll be a buck twenty five," the kid said, holding out a single-dipped banana with a little less nuts than he would have put on for anyone else.
GOB dragged his attention away from the woman and her little dog, reaching into his pocket for money. And coming up empty-handed.
Oh shih'tzu! he thought to himself. Gonna have to hit up Michael for some cash. Oh shih'tzu! Only Michael's not around anymore. Damn!
GOB thought quickly.
"How about inlieu of money, I give you an ill lew shun?" GOB asked, enunciating each syllable and waving his arms for dramatic effect—and dousing the kid in lighter fluid.
GOB always performed well under pressure.
"Damn, I need a new flint," he muttered. Fortunately another customer distracted the kid before the scene escalated and GOB beat a hasty retreat.
Without cash or a frozen banana, GOB was more morose than ever as he made his way back up the boardwalk.
NEED CASH?
GOB stopped abruptly and backed up to the community bulletin board he just passed. He stopped in front of the flyer that had caught his attention.
NEED CASH?
Earn big $$$ testing vitamin supplements
Volunteers needed for…
GOB's eyes kept flicking up to "Earn big $$$". Looking furtively to his left, and then to his right, he snatched the flyer down and stuffed it in his pocket. Feeling slightly better, he wheeled off.
The address the flyer directed GOB to was a non-descript office building set amongst other, equally non-descript, office buildings. After filling out a few forms, weight measured, blood drawn, and an hour and a half of reading last year's Sports Illustrated (the White Sox won the world series?), he was finally ushered back to an office.
A rather severe-looking woman in a white lab coat sat behind a table. To her left sat an older man of some considerable girth who dabbed the perspiration from his bald pate. He too was dressed in a lab coat.
"You must be…" the woman looked down at a folder, "Gob Bluth?" She pronounced it like it was spelled. Without waiting for an answer she continued.
"I'd like to thank you for taking the time today to visit us here at the Vitalis Company. I'm Doctor Strickland and this is my associate Doctor Zordis." She nodded to her left. "As I'm sure you're aware, we are looking for subjects to participate in a double-blind study of a new natural supplement…"
GOB's eyes began to glaze over. As his mind wandered, he thought of the big money and of all the problems it would solve. If he had money, he could get Ann to renounce God and finally fuck him. Not to mention a double-dipped frozen banana with extra toppings.
"Mr. Bluth, do you understand what I just said?"
GOB forced his attention back to the two behind the desk. Dr. Strickland looked at him questioningly. Dr. Zordis folded his handkerchief and placed it in his pocket before leaning forward.
"It's very important that you follow the instructions exactly," he said, tapping the table for emphasis. "We're still fine-tuning the ratio of colloidal silver to ginseng extract. Failure to take the pills in the prescribed manner could result in severe side-effects such as…"
GOB's mind drifted away, lost in thoughts of frozen bananas, and Ann, and Ann double-dipped in chocolate, sprinkled with nuts. God, he thought to himself, what I could do with that.
"… renal failure, or even paralysis of the extremities. Are you with me so far?"
GOB focused his eyes back on the doctors, who appeared to be waiting for an acknowledgement.
"Extreme renal paralysis. Gotcha."
Eventually the doctors ran out of breath. After a few more forms signed and a final pronouncement to take as prescribed, he was given a bottle of pills and an instruction sheet. Dr. Strickland walked him to the front door.
GOB paused. As focused as he was on the big money he had coming his way, he realized he still didn't know exactly how much he was going to be making. He turned towards Dr. Strickland.
"Oh, one thing. Exactly how much am I going to be getting for this test thing?"
Dr. Strickland looked at him. "We've already gone over this, Mr. Bluth."
GOB looked back at her, blankly.
"Twice."
GOB nodded, "Yes…. Right. And that was how much?"
"Two hundred dollars."
"A day?"
"A week." She placed a hand on his back and ushered him out the door. "Good day to you, Mr. Bluth."
GOB stood in the tiny galley of his boat, reading the instructions that came with the bottle of pills. He was to take one pill a day for thirty days, reporting to the office for weekly checkups. He poured himself a glass of water and opened the bottle, dumping one into his palm. Suddenly the boat shifted slightly and the deck creaked.
Oh shit, Ann's home. Ann didn't believe in medicine. Something about illness being God's way of punishing the wicked. In his haste to replace the lid on the bottle, he dropped everything, sending pills flying. GOB dove to the floor, frantically picking up pills and popping them into his mouth. He shot to his feet just as Ann descended the deck stairs.
"Oh good, you're home. I stopped by the Christian bookstore today and picked up a Bible for you." She sat the shopping bag she was carrying on the counter. "Now you can follow along when we do our nightly bible study."
GOB stood there with a sickly grin on his face, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk hoarding nuts.
"Are you OK?" she asked him, a quizzical look on her face. She stepped towards him, studying him up and down.
GOB's eyes began to water. The pills were beginning to dissolve, a bitter trail ran down his throat. He closed his eyes and with tremendous effort, swallowed a months worth of pills. He grabbed the glass of water and downed half of it.
"I'm fine, why do you ask?'
The next morning, GOB awoke to an empty boat. Ann was off to work, or school or church or wherever it was that she disappeared to during the day. As was his routine, he made himself a cup of coffee, turned the TV on to Oprah, and thumbed through the most recent issue of Poof! It was about noon by the time he walked into the bathroom. He turned on the faucet, grabbed his toothbrush and applied the toothpaste when he glanced in the mirror.
He screamed.
What he saw in the mirror was not him. Or it was him, rather a mottled blue-gray version of himself. Rather like a zombie from Dawn of the Dead. Or worse yet…
"Oh my God," Gob screamed at the mirror, "I look like a …"
"… a Smurf!" Gob yelled at Doctors Strickland and Zordis, pounding their desk with his fist. After seeing himself in the mirror, GOB had rushed back to the Vitalis Company, bursting into the office of the two doctors.
Dr. Strickland studied the raving man clad only in boxers and a bathrobe with faint disapproval. Dr. Zordis pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow.
"Come now, Mr. Bluth," Dr. Zordis said in what he hoped was a calming voice, "there's no need to get upset. If you just…"
"No need to get upset? No need to get upset?" Gob gesticulated wildly. "What's not to get upset about? Look at me! I'm blue, man!"
Dr. Zordis plowed on. "What I think we have here is a case of is argyria, a discoloration of the skin, usually temporary, thank goodness. I don't understand how a single dose could cause such an advanced case."
Dr. Strickland interrupted. "Mr. Bluth. Gob. Exactly how many doses did you take? You did listen to Dr. Zordis when he explained the importance of following the prescription exactly, did you not?"
GOB's arms dropped to his side. "Not exactly."
She arched her eyebrows. "Not exactly. Well then, what exactly did happen?"
GOB stormed out of the offices of the Vitalis Company in a rage. After admitting he took all 30 pills in a single dose, through no fault of his own he added, the doctors had terminated his contract. Something about violating section something, paragraph whatever, of some form he signed. They didn't even pay him for the one day he had already completed!
As GOB sped off on his Segway, he had a sudden craving for a frozen banana. But not just any frozen banana. His eyes narrowed. He wanted a…
"… a GOB. Frozen banana. Chocolate. Double-dipped. Extra nuts. And I want it now."
The pimply kid behind the counter of the banana stand opened his mouth. And shut it again. The steely determination in the eyes of the bathrobe-clad blue man that stood before him gave him second-thoughts about arguing. He hurriedly fixed the banana as requested and handed it to the man.
GOB was sitting at the galley table, relishing the last of his frozen banana when Ann arrived home. She took one look at him and screamed.
"Oh my! What happened to you? You… you… you're all blue!" she wailed. "I know what this is. This is for all of the times you've tried to seduce me. Me and all of those other women. I've tried, George Oscar Bluth. I've tried to make you a better person. This is your punishment. God's punishing you for your wicked ways. God is…"
"Shut up, Ann. Just shut up."
Ann stood there for a moment with her mouth open in shock before snapping it shut and flouncing off.
GOB smiled. He was feeling better already.