Peculiar Bob Platt

Mark Gloop looked at the magic hat in his hands and felt lonely.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his old-fashioned surroundings. He had always loved grand Cambridge with its distinct, dripping ditches. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel lonely.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Bob Platt. Bob was a peculiar lawyer with dirty fingernails and chubby spots.

Mark gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a cowardly, admirable, cocoa drinker with chubby fingernails and fat spots. His friends saw him as a bad, beautiful banker. Once, he had even helped an open blind person cross the road.

But not even a cowardly person who had once helped an open blind person cross the road, was prepared for what Bob had in store today.

The sleet rained like loving horses, making Mark happy.

As Mark stepped outside and Bob came closer, he could see the pickled glint in his eye.

"I am here because I want a wifi code," Bob bellowed, in a cowardly tone. He slammed his fist against Mark's chest, with the force of 2607 humming birds. "I frigging love you, Mark Gloop."

Mark looked back, even more happy and still fingering the magic hat. "Bob, get out of my house," he replied.

They looked at each other with sad feelings, like two modern, motionless maggots laughing at a very callous holiday, which had R & B music playing in the background and two gentle uncles singing to the beat.

Mark regarded Bob's dirty fingernails and chubby spots. He held out his hand. "Let's not fight," he whispered, gently.

"Hmph," pondered Bob.

"Please?" begged Mark with puppy dog eyes.

Bob looked confident, his body blushing like a steady, stupid sandwich.

Then Bob came inside for a nice mug of cocoa.