Resting Bobby Face

by thoughtsonthedead

bobby dangelico“Bobby, you don’t have to point at the name of the guitar.”

“People hire Bob Weir to sell a guitar, Bob Weir sells that guitar.”

“Okay. Bob?”

“Yeah?”

“You gonna keep glaring at me?”

“That’s my endorsement face. They didn’t pony up for the smile.”

“It also feels like I’m getting a lot of your watch in this shot.”

“Gotta lead with the watch. Josh Meyers taught me that.”

“Who?”

“A lot of people say that when I bring him up.”

“Wait: ‘Jay Blakesberg?’ That’s your name? What have I been calling you?”

“You called me ‘Jibble Bibble’ for like five or six years, then you switched to ‘dude’ or ‘man’ for a while, and lately it’s been ‘Jeff,’ which I figured was close enough.”

“Sounds right.”

“Billy calls me ‘Bar Mitzvah Face.'”

“That also sounds right.”

“Why did my actual name just come to you all of a sudden?”

“It’s, um, written right there.”

“What? Where? What’s written?

“In the bottom corner. Can you not see that?”

“I cannot, Bob.”

“Oh, wait: how many realities you occupying currently?”

“Just the one?”

“There’s the problem. You familiar with the concept of a semi-fictional universe?”

“Can we just take pictures, please?”

“Sure, sure. Maybe I should point at the name with both hands.”

“Maybe. Definitely maybe.

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