The subject of this T.O.M.B.S. report is Baley
"It's a bloody monkey!" That all too familiar voice shouted in its neurotic fashion. One could think old Bob was insane, of course to reach that most educated conclusion, one would first have to hear him speak. That might be a little tricky, seeing how Bobby-boy resides in a particularly outlandish portion of my subconscious. Now, I'm not one to shun a charming fellow with ease, especially one as well-versed as Bob, but the brain is a very, shall we say, private endeavour. Peculiarly long story short, there are times, I tire of his tender presence.
"Chimpanzee, to be precise." I calmly corrected my distressed companion.
"Big [insert naughty word]-ing deal. It's an animal, A-Ni-Mal." The poor chap was clearly trying to subdue his primal urge to yell, yelling is so ungentlemanly, and Bob has standards, superficially amoral standards, but standards still.
"I'm sure (emphasis on sure, you don't want an angry Bob in your head, think of all the careless mayhem that might ensue) we can work this out, we're brilliant, remember? Flattery will get you everything ...and more..." (of everything, which is still everything, but with a Bob in your head, everything+1 has a whole different meaning all together).
"Yes, yes, you can use all those pretentious words you aimlessly throw around these days." The voice was civil, soothing and smooth, which was notably strange in itself. (When a Bob is anywhere in the vicinity of the word "calm", it is best to hope for the worst, the worst, in this case being quiet extirpation from one's own brain.)
"It mustn't be extensive, nor distinctly intellectual. Simple, short and mediocre, the road to any public worker's heart." (Note that the author, in all his peerless glory and majestic understanding, is not in any way referring to Romanian professors for whom he has only the greatest of respect.)
"Chimp, posing, green background, feeling intellectually superior to the common beasties. Lies and Fabulations!" He yelled (oh my!). Feelings? Bah, the only feeling they get is bestial arousal!"
It appears that Bob had crossed that line a Bob should definitely not cross.
"Genius! By gods (note that the author does not in fact believe in gods, God or anything in between for that matter), you've done it! Perfection."
