The Ballad of Bob, Part One
Another dreary day, Gunther Greatheights sighed to himself as he had dinner with his parents. Even though he was an adult with his own place in Redmond, he still joined his parents over in Oak Harbor every Saturday for dinner. Tonight it was chicken divan. His mother was a wonderful cook, and yet it always seemed that every time he was home to eat dinner, the food was always bland.
“So, anything wild going on in your life, son?” Gunther’s father Guido asked, bringing a fork to his beak. Bigger and burlier than most males of his species, Guido owned an auto shop that let the older gryphon work on cars to his heart’s content. “Have you had a chance to ask that lovely little gryphoness in your office out?”
Gunther sighed again. “No, Dad – I’m not Giselle’s type. Besides, I think she’s got a boyfriend who works over at Nintendo.” He took a bite of his food, then continued. “See, it’s the guys in the gaming industry that’re getting all the chicks. Those of us trusty programmers? We don’t get so lucky.”
Gunther’s mother Gertrude gave her son an understanding smile – which meant she probably didn’t understand a single thing. “She’ll appreciate you, son. After all, you’ve got a wonderful job over at Microsoft. Project Manager for Pixelsense 2045, son – that’s not some run-of-the-mill job.”
“Mom, it’s not exactly the most exciting job there is. I mean, what, we take the current Windows interface and plug it into Samsung or Dalek-Ix touchscreens. I think a trained chimpanzee could do this stuff. But Trevor? He’s working on Halo 11. And Max? He’s working on the new volumetric interfaces for Windows 16. Now that’s some awesome stuff. Maybe if I was working on Halo 11, that’d get Giselle’s attention.”
“Son, someday she’ll understand. All it takes is time,” Guido said, encouragingly. “After all, you’re reliable and dependable – what gryphoness wouldn’t want that in a mate?”
“The ones who think I’m boring,” he answered.
“You’re not boring, son,” Gertrude pointed out. “You’re a vital and brilliant young mind. A practical rebel, just like your father and I used to be.”
“A rebel?” Gunther tried hard not to laugh at his mother’s ridiculous statement. “Mom, you haven’t done a single rebellious thing since the day I was hatched!”
“That’s because your father and I sowed our wild oats when we were younger,” Gertrude admitted with some slight embarrassment, the feathers on her face flushing slightly.
“Like what?”
“Well….” She looked to her husband for agreement; he took her claw in his and nodded encouragingly. “Well, I wouldn’t tell you this unless you weren’t a grown gryphon already son, so bear that in mind.”
Gunther looked at his parents oddly. Mom and Dad, rebels? His mind suddenly pictured his father as a Hell’s Angel and his mother as a biker chick, something absolutely impossible since they grew up in Grifonica and in fact, hadn’t emigrated to the US until Gunther was seven years old. Even still, I’m guessing there was some kind of rebel culture in Grifonica, right?
“Well…sometimes…” she said, hesitantly, then decided to dive in. “When I was a teenager, I used to write my name in school with a heart over the I in my name instead of the dot. But your father, he was even more daring: he didn’t even dot the I in his name at all!”
Gunther’s eyes narrowed, trying hard not to facepalm. “Wow, you two were a couple of wild and crazy kids just out of control, weren’t you?” he drolled.
“Yes, son, but you see why we had to give it up,” his father noted. “We wanted you to have a good life, a bountiful life, which is why we left Grifonica for America. I suppose in itself that too is rebellious, but that is a small price to pay for seeing our son as successful.”
Gunther grinned, but his heart wasn’t in it. He knew his parents loved him and his kid sister Guinevere and only wanted the best for them. But…he wanted more out of life. It didn’t matter if he was the project lead at a prestigious company like Microsoft, if that meant that he was a sallow ignored fly on the wall every time dear, sweet beautiful Giselle walked through the campus. He couldn’t count the number of times he found himself over by the hardware design studio just so he could see his beloved artist and her incredible talents at creating prototypes for new hardware. She was a sculptor of no small talent and indeed, he knew she was the influential designer behind the new holographic keyboard emitters – he knew her subtle yet exquisite touches. But she only knew him as just the other gryphon who worked there, nothing big.
He sighed; things couldn’t get worse than this.
“Okay, so let’s get this party started!” his mother said, pulling out a box. “Now, how about a rousing game of Chutes and Ladders?”
On second thought…maybe it could.
As usual for the Pacific Northwest, it looked like it was on the verge of raining, so instead of flying from his apartment to work, Gunther got in his car and decided to drive over. His rarely-used car, a SEAT Leon Cupra, nimbly managed to get him from his apartment to the Microsoft campus. After his car was scanned through the employee gate, he parked over by Building 6, where he worked.
As he got out, he was met by one of his best friends, Trevor Girabaldi. He and Trevor were college buddies from MIT and both were lucky enough to land jobs at the Big M, and briefly shared an apartment together before Trevor shacked up with his girlfriend. Still, though, they were the closest of friends and always pulled each other out of jams. “Gunther! Dude, toldja, should’ve come over my place. All the bros and babes were there for the weekend Halo Frag-a-Thon! Coulda hooked you up with this cute little gryphoness from Bioware who came down with some friends in Van-Can – we challenged her to a deathmatch and she stomped the hell out of u…on second thought, maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t come.”
Gunther grinned, or as much as was possible to with a beak. “Dude, you know me.”
“Yeah, and spending every Saturday at your parents’ place and every Sunday in your garden isn’t exactly doing wonders for your social life, man! I swear, Gunther, you gotta get out more!” Trevor got out of the way as a familiar Hummer H1 pulled into two parking spaces. “You keep up what you’re doing man, you’re going to grow old, gray, alone and cranky!”
“He’s right, you know.” A six-foot minotaur tall exited the Hummer. Like all minotaurs, he was big and bulky. Unfortunately, that’s where his own similarities with his species ended. He was bulky and strong…for a human, not for a minotaur, where he would be scrawny. Due to a birth defect, his horns weren’t strong and proud, but shortly cropped on his head almost as if he were wearing them rather than them being a part of his skull. Due to his eyes, he wore eyeglasses, and last but not least, though he appeared to have a reddish-brown coat, anyone who truly knew him knew that was because he dyed his coat out of embarrassment; he was actually born with bright fuschia fur. Combining all that with his above-average intelligence and placed in a society where brawn was valued over brains, and it was clear to see why he moved to the US first chance he got. But such was the life of the minotaur named Maximum Strength, or as his friends called him…
“Heya, Max,” Gunther said, leaning against his car while Max walked towards them. “How’d you know what we were talking about?”
The minotaur rolled his eyes as if in mock-introspection. “Let’s see…it’s a Monday, Trev’s here giving you a ration of shit and, as usual, you’re taking it. Which tells me the subject is, once again, why you aren’t knockin’ paws with Giselle by now, and so unless he told you to go die in a fire, he’s probably correct in his assessment.”
“Well, what about you, big guy?” Trevor asked.
“Guiding Light and I are doing fine. She’s throwing hints that it’s time to pop the question.” Max’s dating situation was a little different: because of his relative weakness, he had no attraction for minotaur cows; due to dimorphism dating sapient cows was out of the question and it freaked him out when he realized that sapient cows did not fare well on this Earth due to their similar appearance to the unintelligent cattle cows here, actual animals who weren’t exactly dating material to begin with.
Fortunately, luck had come his way when he met Guiding Light, a pegasus pony that had been blinded in an accident; the finest medical care in Equestria couldn’t help her, but the University of Washington’s Medical Center had stepped in and after extensive surgery to replace almost all her bones including portions of the skull, she was undergoing physical therapy for the heavily-replaced bones in her legs, ribs, wings and parts of her skull. Max had been there to get his annual physical from his doctor when he came across the mare, just about to give up. Seeing the broken mare, he offered to help her train to get back on her hooves; when time came for her to head back to Equestria, she decided to stay, moving in with her boyfriend. Light, strangely enough, had a specialty with light refraction and as a result, despite her blindness was hired to be a technician over at the local laser tag arena.
“So, going over engagement bracelets?” Trevor said, elbowing the larger guy. “Of course, if you and Light get married, then…I know Tasha’s going to start hinting that it’s time for us to settle down and…dude, you have no idea what you’re doing to our lack of maturity, do you? I’m too young to have kids more mature than I’ll be!”
“Fuck you, you’re just jealous that I fragged your ass on TF5 last night,” Max said with a grin. “And before you ask, I think Light and Tasha are already talking, so you’d better start looking as well.”
As per the norm, Gunther’s two best friends chatted along, their usual banter nothing more than background chatter for him. His eyes had already started to focus on the Toyota Corolla parked one row over. It came to a gentle stop, and out of it stepped the most gorgeous creature that Gunther had ever had the honor to know. As always, his breath was taken away, his heart stopping with the purity of love most overwhelming. And how could he not? Dressed in a simple sweater and jeans, carrying a laptop back slung over her shoulder and gently resting on one golden brown wing, the beautiful gryphoness stepped away from her car, headed towards Building 7, where she worked. Her brown-and-gray headfeathers crested ever so-slightly, giving it the appearance of a tousled hairstyle. She had a sweet smile on her face, the kind of beatific smile that only gryphons knew amongst their kind, and she walked with the effortless grace of a dancer, taking time to wave to each person, human or otherwise, that she walked pass. Her voice called out her hellos in musical, hypnotic tones that made his being focus on her all that much more.
She was, quite simply, the goddess of his heart, and that deity had a name: Giselle Gracewings.
“He’s totally lost again,” Max said, watching Gunther’s daily ritual.
“P-whipped like you wouldn’t believe,” Trevor joked.
Somehow, it was Gunther’s turn, as she saw him out of the corner of her eye and waved. “Hi, Gunther!”
That seemed to break the spell as he approached her. “Oh, h-hi, Giselle. H-how’d your weekend go?”
She seemed to pout, her feathers ruffling. “Well,” she sighed, “I wanted to head up to Vancouver BC for the weekend, but Gavin wanted to stay home this weekend because he had tickets to the Mariners game on Saturday against New Orleans. I mean, I really don’t like baseball, but he insisted, so…. Anyway, I was so tired after all that mess that I just spent Sunday at home just watching the Arddun trilogy. I’d do anything to be like Princess Selene, if I could have a Chester to treat me just like that.”
“And here’s the part where he blows it as usual,” Trevor said.
“Aw, give him a break – I’m sure he’ll get it right this time,” Max assured his friend. In turn, Trevor just gave him a lidded glance, and Max replied, “Yeah, okay, so you’re right. But one day, just one day, maybe he will.”
“I doubt it.” Trevor crossed his arms and watched his pal with the sadness of someone watching a trainwreck happening over and over again.
“I’d treat you like Selene,” Gunther mumbled under his breath.
Giselle thought she heard something. “Uh, did you say something, Gunther?”
“I…um…I was just saying that, uh,” he stammered, scratching the back of his head nervously, “that I thought the series was keen! You know, cool and all that.”
“Wow, I didn’t know you were an Arddun fan. Usually only females like it; Gavin hates it when I watch it, but…well, a girl has to have her own things, you know? But I’m glad to know there aren’t some guys who are stereotypical jerks.”
She likes me! His chest nearly puffed with pride; only the panic of the situation was keeping him under control. No, wait, she likes the fact that I like that series. Note to self: actually watch the series.
“Well, I’ve got to get to my office. I’ll see you later, okay?” She waved gently as she walked off, her tail swishing in graceful, wave-like motions and he returned the gesture, not thinking about the fact that he was waving to her back or that he was completely mooning over her. But then, suddenly, she stopped then turned around, heading right back to him. “Oh, I completely forgot – I wanted to ask you something.”
“W-wh-what?”
“Um…” she said, blushing. “It’s kinda personal.”
“I-I’m all yours,” he said, then realizing that what he said could be construed as a come-on and he practically froze. In the distance, Max and Trevor watched with some pleased surprise, knowing she’d never turned back to talk to him before. Maybe it was time.
“Uh…what size is your shirt?”
Huh? “It’s…uh....GM. Gryphon medium. Why?”
“Well…I got Gavin a Sonics jersey for his birthday, but he wears a GXL. Since you’re the only gryphon I know, and I can’t return it, do you want it?”
Gunther seemed to deflate. In the distance, a man and a bull facepalmed. “I…uh, sure. I-I-I mean, I’m, er, well…I’m not the biggest football fan—”
“Basketball. The Sonics are basketball.”
“See? Not the biggest fan of basketball. But, sure, that’d be nice.”
Her face lit up in a gryphoness’ smile. “Okay. I’ve got it at my desk, and I’ll bring it by your office after lunch.”
Gunther grinned and gave her a thumb’s-up. “Sure, that’d be great, thanks.”
“Least I can do for such a nice friend. But I really gotta go or else my supervisor’ll kill me. I’ll see you later!” Now in a rush, she took to wing, flying over the crowd of employees heading towards the buildings, headed towards her own.
“Dude. Friend-zoned. Death sentence there. Man, I don’t even know what to say,” Trevor commented.
“Yeah. I don’t even know what I can say that’ll take away the pain,” Max said in sympathy.
Gunther could hear his heart practically shattering. Friend-zoned. Meanwhile, that bastard – how could he be anything else, since from her descriptions, he was clearly a boor – Gavin have such dominion over the lovely Giselle that she gave up so much for him? Had it been an arranged marriage? – those were still common in Grifonica, after all. Brainwashing? Or something even more insidious and sinister.
“Look, Gunther,” Trevor said, “beers are on me tonight, okay?”
“Yeah. We’re heading out tonight. Guy’s night out,” Max promised.
Gunther walked numbly towards his office, barely hearing his friends. His world had just fallen apart, his everything destroyed. He would grow old alone, while the gryphoness of his dreams would forever be trapped under the less-than-tender ministrations of that damnable Gavin; even more painful was the fact that she’d chosen Gavin willingly.
By the time he was at his desk, Gunther Greatheights was a broken gryphon.
“Dude, what is wrong with you?” Gunther’s supervisor asked.
“Look, Jason, I…I blew it. I’m sorry. My head wasn’t in the game,” Gunther apologized.
His supervisor, Jason O’Reilly, sighed. “Gunther, you were like shit in that presentation today. You’re lucky I know you better than that or else I’d have said that you didn’t impress me enough to save the deal with STR – and you’re lucky that this was just a practice run for the real meeting on the 25th. I don’t need to remind you how important that contract is: if STR decides to buy from Amiga instead of us, our partners will pull out of Pixelsense, the brass will cut the program and your job will be at risk. I’m sure you don’t want that.”
“Look, I’ve had a lot on my mind lately,” he began.
“I know you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. Hell, everyone does – it’s so blatantly obvious. It’s that gryphon chick you got the hots for over in Peripherals, right? Whatsername…Tabitha, or Tara or something like that. Or maybe it was Andrea. Ashleigh?”
“It’s Giselle,” he said, feeling the sweetness of that name on her breath.
“Ah, should’ve realized. A G name. Gryphon names always start with G. Why is that, anyway?”
“Well, it’s a cultural and religious thing, actually. You see, according to the Guide, the Great Galactic Gryphon reaches out to us in death and carries our souls to the Grand Garden, where we have an afterlife of peace. But we have to follow the laws of the Guide, and the first one is always have—”
“A name that starts with G, I’m guessing. So you’re telling me there’s not a single gryphon in existence whose name doesn’t start with a G?”
“Well, there’s, uh, Gustav LeGrande, but I think his is a stage name. And Gregory DiGrotto, but his is a stage name, too.”
“Well, I hate to break it to you, buddy, but if you want to know the truth…Gunther isn’t that good of a name. I know that for some weird reason, gryphons and humans tend to have similar names, but lemme tell ya: Gunther isn’t even remotely a decent name amongst humans.” He paused for a second and then asked, “Have you ever given thought to changing it?”
“Changing it? How could I? I mean…”
“Well, you just said that there’s two examples of gryphons that changed their names, right? Besides, changing your name is no big deal. People do it all the time. Hell, I did it, even!”
“You did?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t born with the name Jason. My parents were stoner hippies down in Oregon. I was actually born with the first name Baba, as in the name of that old song by The Who. But first thing I did when I was eighteen was to march right into the courthouse and change my name. Sure, my parents think Baba is a better name than Jason, but then again, they also think that patchouli is what every house should smell like.”
“Wow, I didn’t even know.”
“And see? That’s the thing.” Jason put his arm over Gunther’s shoulders and as both males looked in the same direction, the human gestured grandly. “What about…Gary Greatheights? Or Gerry Greatheights? Or you could go for broke: Eric Greatheights.”
“Eric?” Gunther said the name over and over again, liking the sound on his mouth. “I like it.”
“Then tell you what: at the end of the day, take a couple of weeks off to think about it – really think about it – and pick your fate. Maybe it’ll be just enough to make that girl of yours go gaga. After all, what sounds better: Gunther…or Eric?”
It was as if the downfeathers had been removed from his eyes. He saw reality for the first time, and he saw hope.
“And I’m gonna do it,” Gunther told his friends over brews. “Gonna get it done. No more Mister geeky Gunther!”
“Dude, that’s just wild,” Trevor told him. “Personally, I like Trevor, so I’d never do that, but you, man, you got it going places. Salud!” He toasted his friend and three beer mugs clinked together as the trio celebrated Gunther’s big change.
“Have you given any thought to a name?” Max asked.
“Well, not really,” Gunther said, “but I’m going to do it, no matter what. I’ll just have to—” He was suddenly cut off by someone programming a song into the jukebox; the sound system, set a little too high, blasted a classic song at maximum volume for everyone present to hear:
“Show me how you do that trick
The one that makes me scream,” she said
“The one that makes me laugh,” she said
And threw her arms around my neck
“Show me how you do it
And I promise you, I promise that
I'll run away with you,
I'll run away with you”
“Man, let’s take this to the patio outside. Song’s hurting my ears,” Max commented, wincing as his hearing was hit by the music full bore.
“Yeah,” Trevor had to shout in order for his friends to hear him. The three made their way outside of the bar and to the external patio, where Trevor laughed. “You know, my mom listened to The Cure when she was our age. She always said Robert Smith could belt them out, but I don’t quite think she quite meant that way.”
Gunther, whose ears were probably better since he didn’t have pinnae to amplify the sound, asked, “Who?”
“No, not The Who, The Cure,” Trevor shouted back. “Robert Smith was the lead singer. Read about him once. Really, really weird guy, but hey, so are all rock stars, right?”
Gunther didn’t hear much of the statement, just the name ringing in his mind:
…Robert Smith…
…Robert Smith…
…Robert Smith…
…Robert Smith…
Dazed, Gunther looked up, and saw as a shooting star crossed the sky. He knew what they really were: just pieces of space rock burning up in the atmosphere, but gryphon legend said that a shooting star was really the Great Galactic Gryphon, blessed be His name, dragging a claw across the firmament of the sky to signal approval for a great deed to come.
No, could it? As if in response, another shooting star went by; this one brighter as if a command delivered from His Clawed Greatness himself.
“Hey, Gunther, you okay? You look a little spacy,” Max asked.
Gunther shook his head eagerly. “Like you wouldn’t believe, guys, like you wouldn’t believe. Salud!” he said, downing the near-full stein of beer in once shot. “Let’s have another round, guys!”
Max and Trevor looked at their friend in surprise: Gunther never chugged, and he was a lightweight when it came to drinking, a single stein would last him the whole night, normally. “Sure,” Trevor said, waving for one of the waiters, knowing something had just happened, but not sure what it was. “Next round is on!”
The court clerk looked at him as if he were mad. “Um…I’m not going to say this is illegal or anything, but…are you sure?”
Gunther nearly gave her a predatory stare; he was never surer of anything in his life. “Yes. That’s what I want. Legal name change.”
“Look, gryphons don’t change names,” she said. “Even when they get married, it’s not like humans, where the wife sometimes takes the husband’s surname. Gryphons don’t change names at all. It’s just how things are.” He continued to stare at her, and she finally gave up. “Okay, okay. Here: fill out Form 336A, then the bottom half of 513D. You’re lucky the judge handling name change cases is in today. Go to Courtroom Five and Judge Rivers will see you.”
Gunther was giddy in filling out the forms, his claw moving the pen over the paper like a madgryphon. Seconds counted; the judge might leave for the day or get tied up with one of a billion other things and he might miss his chance. He practically soared from his spot until a bailiff told him no flying was allowed in the courthouse. With that admonishment in mind, he walked as fast as he reasonably could over to Courtroom Five, on the other side of the building. Once there, he opened the door, expecting a pain-inducing wait for his case to come up.
Fortunately, that wasn’t going to be the case. Sitting in the room was a bored looking judge watching something on his tablet, the courtroom bailiff and court recorder both watching over his shoulders. “Man, it’s amazing how even after all these years South Park is still too crude to show the kids,” Judge Rivers said aloud with a chuckle
“Yeah,” the bailiff agreed before she broke out in a grin. “God, what kind of crack were the creators on? Mecha-Streisand?” A pause before she asked, “Uh, what’s a Streisand?”
“Supposedly some big singer from ages ago,” the court recorder told her. “My grandma listens to her stuff. Honestly? It sucks.”
Gunther, watching the whole thing, coughed politely to get their attention. The three looked up, but the judge didn’t turn off his tablet as his counterparts went back to their stations. “Can I help you?” he finally asked, ignoring the comments piping through the tablet’s speakers.
“Um…I’m here for a name change petition,” Gunther replied.
Rivers looked at him oddly. “Um…you’re a gryphon, right? Gryphons…they don’t change names. Humans, obviously; ponies, sometimes; once in a while a zebra. But out of all the species originally from Alter-Earth that I’ve come across….” The judge removed his glasses and looked at the figure before him. “Gryphons don’t change names.”
“This one is,” Gunther pointed a thumb back at himself with nervous energy. If the world sent legions of beings to counter him, he would prove himself worthy of being a gryphon…well, metaphorically, at least; he had no interest in being a true predator.
Rivers waved him to come closer. “Okay, let me see your paperwork.” Gunther approached and handed the human the forms. The judge put his glasses back on, read the forms and looked at Gunther again. “Are you sure about this, Mr. Greatheights?”
“As sure as I’ll ever be,” he answered.
“I must inform you that once you change your name, it will be difficult to change back. The State of Washington is one of the hardest states in the union to get your name changed in. Yes, I know people in California, Puerto Rico, and the Marianas Islands change their name frequently. But we’re not one of those states. Once you make the change, all your personal files – your driver’s license, your social security number, your general aviation license, everything – will be changed to the new name, and you will be required to keep using that name for a period of three years before you can even consider changing it back, understood?”
The gryphon nodded. “I understand, sir.”
“Then give me exactly one reason why I should approve this. You’re risking cultural embarrassment, young gryphon, and while you are legally entitled to do so, I am asking this on a personal level, just to make sure that you understand what you are getting into. Even for humans, names are something you don’t change lightly. We had this case about fifteen years ago, when I was just a public defender. Human woman, born of Somali descent, changed her name because she wanted to hide the fact that she was from that hellhole. She’d taken great care to obscure her origins: she dressed like an American even though she’d only been in the country for five years, and her English was so flawless I wanted to practically hire her to teach it to some of the slang-infested gangbangers I frequently had to defend. Well, she changed it and was happy as a lamb – right up until her parents killed her for ‘betraying her culture.’” Judge Rivers kneaded his hands together and said, “Now, as far as I know gryphons aren’t as violent, but what I do know is that they place a huge amount of importance on culture. You could be disowned by your family, treated as a pariah by every gryphon you know, even your wife, if you have one.”
That had never occurred to Gunther. What would Giselle think? Would she think of me as some human-faker? ‘Hey, look, there’s that wannabe human who likes me?’ He could practically see her kissing Gavin in front of him, laughing at the former-gryphon, forever doomed to be a pariah. His parents disowning him, his little sister Guinevere embarrassed to know him, his name struck from the history of gryphondom….
“Robaato Sumizu, Robaato Smumizu….” a sound suddenly came from the tablet. Judge Rivers suddenly realized he left the tablet on and put it on pause. “Sorry about that.” Coughing to clear his throat, the human asked, “So, are you sure you wish to do this?”
Gunther suddenly realized what he’d heard over the speakers: truth. Thy will be done, he prayed silently to the Great Galactic Gryphon. Looking right at the judge, he said, “Yes sir.”
“Well, since you’re sure.” He picked up the documents, signing them with a pen, then signed a digital copy with a stylus. “Well, then by the Laws of the State of Washington, the State hereby decrees that Mr. Gunther Greatheights of Redmond, King County, Washington has changed his name to Mr. Robert James Smith. At this time, all legal documents shall be amended to reflect this.” Offering a hand to the gryphon, he said, “Well now, Mr. Gre…I mean, Mr. Smith. Best of luck.”
The gryphon smiled with a twinkle in his eye, striding out of the court room, chest puffed and stride like a boss. Once out of the building, he left his car in place, opting instead to launch himself into the brilliant blue sky. It was supposed to be raining today, the reason he drove to the courthouse. Now, not a cloud in the sky, as if he’d been signaled that he’d proven himself true.
High above the ground, sunlight streaming warmth into his face, he cried out in the booming vocal call that was inherent in all gryphons. “ATTENTION WORLD,” he said with a brilliant smile plastered on his face, “I. AM. BOB!” With that, the newly monikered Bob Smith returned to his car. Today was the first of his vacation, the first of his new life – he had two weeks to prove to the world that while Gunther Greatheights had been nothing more than a weak, nebbish gryphon, Bob Smith deserved to stand amongst the greatest of his kind. Oh, yes, he would.
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Oh-kaaaay. That's a plunge, alright. Even, technically, a sign from God he was meant to be Bob.
Nice to see a lighter hearted piece in the series-- at least so far.
why Bob
not gonna end well cant wait for the next
Hmm, I wonder how this will turn out. Nice to to see Redmond is still the centre of game development industry. Is DigiPen USA still there in your continuity?
BAhahahaha, this is great. Nice to have a light hearted chapter that shows normal folks living the life.
1032353
I'll have to work it into the story now.
Totally forgot about DigiPen.
1032385
Sweet! =D
Just Like Heaven!
1032312
Bob was a good enough name for a planet.
1033149
Not to mention....
toastytech.com/guis/bobboot1.gif
Awesome first name!!!!! It's mine too! Welcome to the Robert club buddy!
1033156 NOOO you shall not mention that horrible thing
Must resist giving terrible pun about heights ...
*deep controlled breathing* *sigh*
Well Bob best of luck to you!
His name is Robert James Smith, so where'd 'Bob' come from?
1047372
Known variations of Robert: Rob, Robby, Robbie, Robin, Bob, Bobby, Bobbie, Bert. The three underlined versions are commonly used by the female variation Roberta as well.
I'm wondering if Gunther is going to get a lesson on the importance of names from Meredith the Seahawk.
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I thought it would be obvious based on the description: they were neanderthals.
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Actually, you're close. Modern humans are Homo sapiens sapiens; the other subspecies of humanity, Homo sapiens idaltu died hundreds to thousands of years ago. That being said, you're absolutely correct in that we have the DNA of other Homo-genus species in our bloodlines.
Wow, I can easily see
Gunther'sBob's father stub his toe and yell "Gosh darn-it!" to which his mother would respond with a quick gasp at such crude language.Well, I admit I was skeptical that all griffon names must start with a G
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Given how Ponies reacted to Fluttershy using the word "Peeved" (It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?), I would call this post downright prophetic. Have an upvote.