Bewildering Stories

The Aisle of the Ductile Moron

Part Two

Aerin Drek

The rat, Don Ogbor, looked around itself. It saw cheese, dirty clothes, cheese, rotten food, cheese, Bob Gonzo, cheese, cheese, cheese,....

A light bulb fell on its head.

Cheese everywhere! it thought. Cheese be good! Must eat cheese!

It munched on cheese until it fainted.


Bob Gonzo was snoring in his sleep. Even though he worked for a Booger grocery store, he only did two important things, eating and sleeping. He slept 16 hours a day. In fact, the only reason why Booger employed him was because he agreed to work for -$7.50 an hour. For every hour he worked, he would pay Booger $7.50. He worked at the processed cheese aisle because not many people bought processed cheese at Booger ever since a rival store started selling it for 98.6% cheaper. Processed cheese cost $20.00 for a normal package at Booger while it cost $.24 at the rival store. In fact, the rival store was called Pablo's Processed Cheese Store. It had a trademark saying: "Processed cheeses of the world." It only sold two things: processed cheese and more processed cheese. Eventually Pablo's Processed Cheese Store was no longer a rival store; it was dominant.

Of course, there were some processed cheese customers at Booger....


"Excuse me, I would like to have some expired processed cheese to make a trap for the other Wacky Racers, hee hee!" said an evil man by the name of Richard Dastardly, commonly referred to as Dick Dastardly.

His dog, referred to as Muttley, snickered.

Bob awoke. He stared through Dick Dastardly.

"Egad! Twins, both stupid fools!" he mumbled.

"Er, what was that?" said Dick.

"Nothing. What do you want?" said Bob.

"Some expired processed cheese, please," said Dick.

"Processed cheese? Me processed cheese!" said Bob.

"I believe you are mistaken. This is a store. A store is intended to sell products," said Dick.

"My processed cheese! And get off me property! Me have cheese spray, and me be not afraid to use it!" said Bob, shaking two cans of cheese spray threateningly.

"I shall have to report this to the manager," said Dick, appalled.

Bob stood up, stepped on the unconscious rat, aimed the cheese spray, and sprayed.

Unfortunately for Bob, the cheese spray was aimed in the wrong direction, and he sprayed it all over his face.

The rat crawled up, devoured the cheese, and expelled flatulent gas explosively and violently.

Dick Dastardly ran away, and Muttley fainted.

"What be this piece of [bovine excrement] on me property?" said Bob.

He kicked Muttley over the shelf. Muttley landed in someone's shopping cart full of eggs. The eggs broke.

"Stupid fools!" said Bob.

He belched, expelled enteric gas explosively, puissantly, and forcefully, cleared his nasal cavity of mucus, tripped over a banana peel, and landed in an opened sack of fresh manure fertilizer.

"Don, boy, want some fertilizer?" said Bob. He threw the sack.

The rat rolled over in the manure and started slapping it under its armpits.

Then came customers: three prepubescent mutated females by the names of Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup.

"What's that on your face? Is it fudge?" said Bubbles.

Bob reached with his tongue, cleared his face of manure, and ingested the manure.

"It be fertilizer. It be good," said Bob.

"Ew!" cried the Powerpuff Girls.

"That is disgusting!" said Buttercup.

"I agree!" said Blossom.

"Lookee what me can do with pencil," said Bob.

He pulled a mechanical pencil out of his pocket and dropped it.

The rat's eyes grew red. It stared at the mechanical pencil. Its eyes grew redder. It leapt, snatched the pencil, jumped onto Bob's shoulder, and drove the pencil into his head. It went in one ear and went out the other.

"That feel funny," said Bob. "Stop it."

Steam flew out of the rat's ears.

"Want some cheese spray?" said Bob.

He fed the rat cheese spray, and it calmed down.

"This is insanity!" said Blossom.

The Powerpuff Girls flew away.

"I be right back," said Bob.

He went to Aisle 4096, the burrito aisle, to fetch burritos. He brought back five large packages of frozen burritos.

"We sit on burritos; they get warm," said Bob.

Bob and the rat sat on the burritos.

The burritos defrosted gradually, but not when exposed to sudden blasts of methane gas.

Finally, the burritos were cooked.

Bob and the rat poured gravy and melted cheese on the burritos, slapped them with rotten fish, ate all of the burritos, and expelled elephantine quantities of intestinal gas. It blew the shelf over.

"Lookee...Aisle 2047 is bean aisle. Get beans," said Bob.

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Copyright 2002 by Aerin Drek and Bewildering Stories.