Replying to: Another Bob clone by nytshad
For the first few houses all goes well. Bob is doing wonderfully on his first solo Trick or Treat, having amassed a wealth of sugary goodness. He hastily visits the rest of the houses on his street, then decides to check his haul.
Sitting resolutely in the middle of the street- because he's a pedestrian and automatically has the right of way -Bob begins counting and categorizing his booty. Much to his chagrin, however, he finds an apple among his winnings. Bob, being very Bobbish, is naturally outraged. He remember clearly stating "Trick or Treat" at each door. He can think of only one person cruel and uncaring enough to have the audacity to give him anything other than the Treat he demanded: Dr. Hordenbitter, the dentist down the street.
Bob steals his juvenile resolve and marches back down the street to the dentist's door and bangs on it until it opens.
Dr H.: Well, if it isn't Superman again?
Bob: I'm not Superman, I'm Optimus Prime. How dare you try to call me something I clearly am not!
The dentist looks at Bob quizzically. Having 2 young sons himself (and being a fan of the old animated series), Dr H is quite familiar with the character and can't see any resemblance.
Dr H: Isn't Prime's helmet and head blue?
Bob: No, it's red, you no-nothing idiot. Now stop making fun of me. I came back here to demand a refund.
Dr H: o_O ...a refund?
Bob: Yes! I specifically asked for a Treat and you very rudely gave me an apple.
Dr H: ...apples are very good for your health and-
Bob: I don't want to listen to your lies, you lying liar. I demand a refund and I want a credit for the rude manner in which I've been treated.
Dr. H: Ok, joke's over. Bob, how can I give you a refund for something you didn't pay for? And a credit? and credit for what? This is a holiday tradition, not business transaction.
Bob: you sold me an apple in exchange for my efforts of dressing up in a costume. I deserve compensation for my trouble. I demand to speak with your superior.
Dr. H: Who, my father? He's been dead for 10 years.
Bob: then let me speak to whoever is in charge.
Dr H: that would be me.
Bob: your customer service sucks. I don't want to talk to you. Go get me someone else who actually knows what they're doing.
Dr H: fine, Bob.
The dentist goes back inside, locks and blots the door, and turns off the porch light, leaving Bob in semi-darkness. The dentist never returns and after 3 hours Bob is starting to get pissed. So is his father Robert who, when Bob was not back by curfew, was forced to leave his late-night 30year old syndicated television show and go search for his son. Infuriated that he had to waste gas driving 4 blocks up the street to find his son pouting on someone else's doorstep, Robert grabs Bob by the ear and drags him back to the truck and spanks him all the way home.
The next day...
Dr. Hordenbitter opens his front door to find Bob and his father standing there, wearing twin glares of malcontent.
Dr H: Robert. I was just going to call you to talk about your son's behavior last night.
Robert: my son has done nothing wrong, he's just being a conscientious consumer. He has every right to demand a refund and a credit for his troubles.
Dr H: you've got to be kidding. Robert, I'm not a business.
Robert: but you own a business. And if you give us anymore grief I'll get my sister's-half-cousin's-girlfriend's-uncle-who -is-a-lawyer to sue you for every penny you have.
Dr H: be reasonable Robert. It's just Halloween!
Robert: see? It's just that kind of attitude that ruining this great country. Now, you tell me what you are going to do to compensated me son for his time and trouble, me for my trouble and time (incidently I'm losing $1000 every minute I waste arguing with you), and physical and mental anguish.
Dr H: anguish?
Robert: I had to beat my son last night for making me come look for him after he didn't come home by curfew. I injured his @ss and my hand. Also there's the psychological trauma.
Dr H: it's not my fault you beat your kid!
Robert: it is your fault. He was on your property when I caught him breaking curfew.
Dr H: FINE! How can I make you go away?
Robert: my son deserves 4 bags of candy and a written apology for insults to his person and costume. I deserve $1000 for my time, $75 for gas, and $6000 for counseling.
The aggravated dentist pulls out his check book and hastily writes a check and hands it to Robert.
Dr H: There! That's a check for $5 for the candy. Anything more than that you'll have to contact my lawyer.
Robert: this is unacceptable. We're not leaving here until our demands are met.
Robert tears up the check and makes a show of sprinkling the bits of it over the dentist's immaculate lawn. The dentist looks at Robert with his smug look of self-satisfaction, and looks at Bob who's wearing the exact same expression. Seeing no other recourse, the dentist goes inside, locks the door, and calls the police, reported that there are two dangerous-looking men loitering on his property and littering in his yard.
The cops show up 10 minutes later and, with many shouts of lawsuits and righteous-indignation, cuff Robert than throw him into the back of the cruiser. A kindly officer escorts Bob home and releases him into the custody of his father's girlfriend.
The cops cart Robert to the county prison, where he is arraigned, charged, and convicted of trespassing and disturbing the peace and sentenced to 30 days. The charges, however are quickly overturned by a judge who was bribed by the county jail guards who had quickly tired of Robert's incessant whining and nattering. Robert was released from custody after only 3 days.
Of course, as far as Robert was concerned, the day was won by his superior negotiating skills, which he vowed to continue to teach to his son. His one regret of the whole situation was that during his short legal troubles, the dentist had moved far away, leaving no forwarding address. Robert resolved to write the realtor and complain.
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