Inside Joke

Johnny Iglopop changed his name to Bobby Pooklebloik and he still wasn't happy.

Not about the name change. He was ecstatic about the name change. It conveyed exactly the message he intended. He was bracing himself for a massive increase in sexual encounters. Chicks were bound to go wild over him the second he was introduced to them. Melt before his very eyes.

Bobby understood women. He was simpatico to the way they think. What they feel. What they want.

Oh my God his dick was about to get raw.

Problem was the fucking holidays were over. Thanksgiving - dead. Christmas - dead. New Year's Eve - dead. New Year's Day - dead.

What the fuck was Bobby gonna do now?

It wasn't fair, really. All that fun, all those days off from work, all that alcohol consumption crammed into such a brief period in time. And then? BOOM! Back to what some people describe as reality.

Reality? You are fucking kidding me. Bobby worked on December 26. He worked on January 2. Holiday dreams and happiness and memories shattered by the screaming annoyance of a morning alarm.

Fortunately, Bobby thought, we are still in the single digits of January. There is still hope. You approach January with wild, unruly thoughts of a changed life. New direction. A raw dick.

What you get is more of the same. Crushing. Nothing has changed. But if it is January 5 you are thinking there is still a possibility of turning this ship around. Just gotta get a little momentum.

Double digits roll around - January 10 - and you are done for. You dig in your heels and lean back, pull on the fucking reins as hard as you can but the fucking calendar keeps rolling. 11, 12, 18, 23, 31 and oh my fucking God it is February. February of 2020. The magical year devoid of magic.

That's when the visits to the liquor store increase in frequency. More joints are rolled. More nips tossed out the driver's side window.

Bobby had been there before. 40 or 45 times. He recognized the symptoms and despaired of the disease that was about to torture his brain, his life; mock his very existence.

Unless.....................unless he could really pull it off this time. Could it happen? Had he learned his lesson? He was a smart guy. Looked up the definition of change in the dictionary. "Make or become different". Recited it like a mantra. Make or become different. Like changing drinks, painting a wall, raking the yard.

That's it. Make or become different. How hard could that be? How hard should it be? An intelligent approach could result in success. Even though his life to this point belied the concept that change can come easily.

Bobby was exhausted. Too much to think about. But it was only January 5. Still time.

He splashed some Brut on his body, downed two quick double shots of tequila and drove on down to his favorite bar. Broken Dreams. He loved the irony in the name. His dreams were still alive. Always would be. He dreamed them every year. They never changed and never materialized but still, you gotta have dreams, right?

Walked in, ordered up a double shot of tequila and confidently walked over to a table where three hot chicks were sitting. Kinda hot. They looked to be 40 or 50 years old. A little dumpy with hints of beauty not long past. Just the right demographic for Bobby.

They were watching him and laughing, obviously about some inside joke shared through their devoted friendship.

"Hi. I'm Bobby Pooklebloik. Mind if I join you?"

Their eyes glazed over, obviously expressing the intense desire he had fired up in the depths of their carnality.

Bobby was pleased.

It was gonna be a good year.