Time Out

Sometimes, Bob "times out." What I mean is when there is no sensory stimulation for about 5 minutes or so, he goes into a quasi-hibernation mode like C3P-O from Star Wars. I liken it more closely to a box-shaped computer monitor from the 90's. To go along with that, I think that in his mind, Bob is flying by stars like those screensavers.

Jenga

A while ago, my brothers, my grandmother, and I were playing Jenga in Bob's kitchen while he was reading the newspaper. As Jenga usually goes, several minutes of silence were broken, by the toppling of wooden bricks on the table and the linoleum floor. Amidst this sudden chaos and our laughing, Bob stands up, slams his paper down, and shouts, "Oh S%*#!" After a moment of Bob staring at the table, he sheepishly returns to his seat with a smirk, "I thought the chandelier fell down." We laugh harder. I have never heard Bob cuss, before or since.

Strawberries

Bob has always had esophageal problems, but recently, his acid re-flux has spiked in its severity. It is a serious problem, but his response in addressing it is classic. "Gray, I have thought hard about my acid re-flux, and it can only be caused by one thing." "What's that?" "Strawberries. Every time I eat strawberries, it gets really bad." The man, whose staple diet is Denny's, Chick Fil A, Burger King, and Christadelphian potlucks, insists that strawberries have to go.

Shrimp Bowl

About 10 years ago, Bob and my grandmother were over for a super bowl party at our house. Bob proceeded to eat all of the shrimp he brought caked with globs of cocktail sauce. Predictably, this culminated in a reflux disaster. "I think you got some on the furniture!" "No, didn't!" Bob insisted as he ascended to go to the bathroom. An ever-extending, orange trail of saliva extending from his khakied butt to our brand-new couch would confirm otherwise.