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Bob Stories

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ORIGINAL FICTION: "Bob and the Monastery of Blood (Part 3)" by Republibots 2.0 and 3.0 and Paula Tabor

PLEASE NOTE: This is part three of a four-part story. Part 1 is online here http://www.republibot.com/content/original-fiction-bob-and-monastery-blo... and Part 2 is online here http://www.republibot.com/content/original-fiction-bob-and-monastery-blo...

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“Storm’s a-comin,” one of the ranchers told me. Monsoon season was about to begin in the north, which meant more Kirby swarms. For the past couple days, we and Saint Salome’s had been taking in families to protect them.

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ORIGINAL FICTION: "Bob and the Monastery of Blood (Part 2)" by Republibots 2.0 and 3.0 and Paula Tabor

PLEASE NOTE: This is part 2 of a 4-part story. Part 1 is online here: http://www.republibot.com/content/original-fiction-bob-and-monastery-blo...

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I was flying low in my paraglider, there was wreckage of a paraglider on the ground. A trail of smoke let from my plane to the wreckage. “Know this before you die,” I said…

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ORIGINAL FICTION: "Bob and the Monastery of Blood" by Republibots 2.0 and 3.0 and Paula Tabor

Blackness, pain, dizziness, pain, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, pain, panic, , nonexistence. Suddenly alert, blinding light, pain, still couldn’t breathes, still couldn’t move. Something wet pooling beneath me, was that blood? Panic, the blackness again. Blind in one eye. More panic. Confusion behind the panic, looking for anything to hold on to, then, the blessed return to unconsciousness. Many times over, it seemed, an eternity.

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ORIGINAL FICTION: "Bob and the Allegory of the Cave" (Part 1) By Republibots 2.0 and 3.0

Bob and the Allegory of the Cave

Tuesday, May 12th, 2082 AD
(Tuesday, May 12th, 75 IA)
(Tuesday, May 12th, 138 SA)

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ORIGINAL FICTION: "Bob and the Cargo of Death, Part 2" by Republibots 2.0 and 3.0

PLEASE NOTE: This is part two of a story. Part one is online here. http://www.republibot.com/content/original-fiction-bob-and-cargo-death-r...
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I showed up to the mission briefing early.  The crew of about a dozen that I'd met yesterday was all in attendance, with the exception of Thor.  Nancy winked at me.  I just stared back.  Flirting was never my strong suit.  And strangely enough, I wanted to see Emily.  She was forty when I last saw her a year ago. I didn't really care that at this point that she'd have to be about sixty-five.  She was kind to me, once....

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ORIGINAL FICTION: "Bob and the Cargo of Death" by Republibots 2.0 and 3.0

I'm not often angry.  I'm firmly of the belief that strong emotion is like strong drink: It clouds your judgement and makes you do things you'll regret. However, as I was seated across from where I assumed I would be seeing the CSSF General; I fumed.

No, I didn't fume: I cursed violently and loudly, and I vaguely remember banging things about; my arrival on Earth was only slightly less ceremonious than being hoodwinked and shanghaied by a press gang.

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ORIGINAL FICTION: "Bob and the Whale Killer" by Republibots 2.0 and 3.0

You need a relatively clear space approximately 12 inches by 24 inches to play solitaire. I had a dimly lit submarine control panel with about 10 inches by 16 inches with a nasty slope, very bad for card playing. There was some thin adhesive vinyl stripping for sealing access panels tucked in a repair kit to my left. I took three short strips, stuck them to the com panel and shuffled my cards. The sound of the cards thwipping against the panel made my passenger start up again. "We're not being rescued," he stated. His voice was high and reedy with panic

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sysadmin 2.0's picture

ORIGINAL FICTION: "Bob and the Whale Killer" by Republibots 2.0 and 3.0

You need a relatively clear space approximately 12 inches by 24 inches to play solitaire. I had a dimly lit submarine control panel with about 10 inches by 16 inches with a nasty slope, very bad for card playing. There was some thin adhesive vinyl stripping for sealing access panels tucked in a repair kit to my left. I took three short strips, stuck them to the com panel and shuffled my cards.

The sound of the cards thwipping against the panel made my passenger start up again.

"We're not being rescued," he stated. His voice was high and reedy with panic

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