The end is near

I returned from the Cape mid-afternoon on Sunday refreshed and looking forward to a Bob TV-free household. Once again, though, Bob TV was an ever-present entity. I asked Rich if Bob had stayed the night. No, he told me, he stayed next door. Well, at least he was partially out of the house.

Bob came into the kitchen and I asked him how the packing was going. He told me he had just about everything packed and most of it was outside on the front porch. He said it would only be temporary and if I wanted, he could bring it all over to the house where he was staying at. I told him that would be the best thing and he complied. From then on, things appeared to be going smoothly. Bob TV gave me an acoustic guitar and a tape deck, which I thanked him for. He said he needed to get rid of as much junk as possible because he was only taking with him what could fit in his car. Which is why he gave Rich and Kreg a bunch of stuff, too. Also, though, I think he was giving us stuff because of what he put us through the previous days. For that gesture, he got a slight tip of the hat but not much more. I didn't want his gifts, I just wanted him out of my house.

I woke up Monday morning and went downstairs to make breakfast. I thought about Kreg and Rich missing most of the no-hitter the Sox pulled off because Bob TV had the living room cramped with his stuff. The guys didn't place the full blame on Bob TV, but I'm sure if the room was devoid of his belongings, the outcome would have been different. Whatever. All water under the bridge. It was Monday and Bob TV's presence in our house would soon be a memory.

I peeked out the window that faces our front porch. There I saw Bob TV sitting in a chair drawing in a sketch book and smoking a bowl. And all of his stuff was still on the porch! There were several things wrong with this scene and my ire, as it had on too many occasions the days prior, began to boil. I went outside to confront Bob "Didn't I tell you I was a selfish prick?" TV.

"Bob, I thought you were going to get rid of all this stuff yesterday. What's going on?"

Bob casually looked up from his sketch pad. "Oh, you know, I must have blocked it out of my mind when you asked me to move the stuff because the thought of doing it was too much to bear."

Now, Bob TV had tossed off similar sentiments earlier in the weekend, so I wasn't terribly taken aback by this one. "Ok, Bob, you've got to get this stuff out of here. You've been dicking us around too much. Our porch is not a storage facility."

"Man, I've had to listen to you recite the same garbage all weekend and it's gotten pretty old. I just don't see what the huge, big deal is. I really don't. I've told you before, nagging me incessantly isn't going to change what has come before. I'm doing all I can to get out of your hair, but you're making it extremely difficult for me."

"Oh, you're something else! I'm making it difficult for you? Don't you hear how ridiculous that sounds? And if you're tired of me sounding like a broken record, then I suggest not blocking out of your memory things that are "too much to bear". Until you get that malfunction in your brain straightened out, I'm going to continue to be on your case. And how does lounging on my porch smoking a bowl and doodling in your sketch pad qualify as doing all you can to get out of my hair?"

Bob stood up and became animated. "Ok, I get what you're saying, Kevin. It can be summed up like this: you don't want me here. At all. Ever again. I get that, but I still don't see why this is a huge, big deal. Look, my plan today was to have my friend take me to look for a trailer to put my stuff in."

"Okay, here's the plan, Bob. Go see about the trailer and if you fail to acquire one, then make sure you move your stuff next door, as you promised you'd do last night. Is that fair enough?"

"Okay, so you're giving me an ultimatum. I have to get my shit out of here. You know, it's times like these when you discover who your friends really are. And now I know you're not my friend. I don't want to look at you or talk to you ever again, unless the police are involved."

"The police? You want to get the police involved? You know, that sounds like a good idea, Bob. Maybe they'll help facilitate matters. Maybe get your selfish ass out of our hair."

"Well, I didn't mean that literally, I just meant I don't want to talk to you."

"I think that overall we've been pretty patient with you up to this point, Bob. Even now, on Monday, two days after you should have been cleared out of here, I'm giving you the opportunity to spend the day looking for a trailer. And you retort with that bullshit? You're lucky we haven't thrown all your junk onto the curb already. In fact, I'm really starting to feel like a chump for not having done so."

"Whatever, man, just shut up."

"Until every last piece of you is out of my house, I will not shut up, you fucking prick. Go ahead and keep taking your time. See what happens."

With that, I went back in the house, furious that we allowed this guy to continue to take advantage of us.
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Ok, the next post will end this brutal saga and I say thank goodness. At the outset, I didn't think it would take me several posts to tell this tale, but I guess it's fitting considering that I didn't think it would take Bob close to a week to leave us in peace.