moose....mooses?? moosen?? meece?

A moose is a moose, correct? yes, it is correct. i know this. but what is a herd of these adorable brown creatures called?? Yesterday as I sat in my leaky cardboard box chewing on a piece of pork jerky, i spotted a moose. And then another. And another. AND, being the obsessive, compulsive hobo that i am, i HAD to name them. So it was Nosy, and Mooo and Moosey and Charger. After the naming, i could be found atop a tall tree, fore as i tried to introduce myself to the last nameless moose, he decided that it was time to act like a grocery-store teller and charge me. I would have preferred a bill....anyway. These are my....um...mooses? M....Moosen? Seriously, what is the plural of moose? Well....Moose ryhmes with Goose, and the plural of Goose is Geese, so perhaps it is Meese. my herd of meese. No, that does not sound right. But i like it. So Meese it is!! haha. you may tell me that my grasp of the english language is so weak that I could be considered an iliterate fool. Congradulations, you are right. but I am a Hobo and that is my escuse for somethings most things everything. EVERYTHING. DON'T argue with me, i will sic my meese on you!! ha, ha....meese. its fun to say. So now i feel accomplished. I have a herd of meese. That wasn't on my bucket list before but it now is....with a checkmark next to it. Ohhhh how i love to feel accomplished. I may trim my beard just to fuel more of this delightful feeling.....nah. i hear the forecast calls for snow this weekend and i need to be ready.
Well, nowwwww, I am going to go play with my meese. perhaps Charger is feeling more friendly...or perhaps i will be spending the night in the tree. I don't mind. I like trees. And meese.
The end
Bebo

The Hobo's Un-Hobo, Hobo Mother

Hello, dear reader. Even though I have close to nothing to write about, I feel compelled to, because far be it from me to write a blog post more than a day after my comrades!

            The first order of business is to make you aware that I have, in fact, started a new blog. “Waiting for the Green Horizon.” It’s about the more serious matters and opinions in my life. Here’s the link: http://waitingforthegreenhorizon.blogspot.com/ 

            As of now, I am surrounded by merely two cats. Usually, it is closer to four. I am a devoted cat person. Plus, they flock around me, silly things. Don’t they realize I’ve almost killed them all with my clumsiness? Apparently not.

            My wonderful, un-hobo mother was walking around a soccer field the other night, in a giant, squashy coat, her hair (which, if you have seen it in all its mess of curls, you would understand), a beanie, and she was carrying a flute case. Needless to say, she got quite a lot of stares from the team practicing there, as they thought she was, in fact, a hobo.

            I find that while school is out for me, I am getting less sleep, and fewer things done. Yes, I have all the time I could want, but I still manage to procrastinate for days in taking a plate out of my whirl winded room. (Yes, my cardboard box is rather exquisite.) I seem to be a master in procrastination, unless I feel the overwhelming urge to do something. I can even procrastinate when I’m starving. I’ve been hungry for thirteen hours now. I should probably do something about that…

            As soon as I finish writing this, I am handing my laptop to my sister to lock away from me for the majority of the day. Hopefully, it will be an incentive to make me do something. But I have all these books! This will be a challenge.

            I feel the need to stalk someone, someone I have never stalked before. Oh! Wait, no, I’ve stalked all of my cats before. They never really recovered from that. Ugh. I have no ideas. Hmm. Maybe I should stalk myself… But, shush! Don’t tell me!

            Joe

Dark Clouds and Early Hours

    Hello!  Today is a special day.  I spent the night in Bebo's cardboard box last night, as mine was flooded in the torrential downpour.  I  will be forced to steal a new one now, which is sad, because I was very fond of the dear old thing.  Ah, well.  In Bebo's drafty little abode, we huddled on the floor, wrapped in cozy old newspapers with facebooks in hand, and ate pork jerky while listening to the pleasant sound of rain pattering on the cardboard roof of our haven; that is, until the cardboard gave way and we were drenched through with rainwater and soggy bits of box.  We ended up spending the small hours of the morning (until we had to get up at six o' clock) in Razzle, Bebo's car.  Needless to say, we are both extremely tired, so if this blog makes even less sense than usual, do not be surprised or vexed, gentle reader. 
    I'm not entirely certain why today is special; perhaps it seems so because the sun is shining, and I actually ate breakfast this morning.  That must be it.  Breakfast is a wonderful thing, and rather novel.  Usually, if I get any at all, it is some moldy tomatoes and a lump of stale bread that I have scavenged out of a soggy dumpster, but today Bebo and I actually ate scrumpitous waffles with butter and syrup, and I had a lovely eggnog latte!  It was a meal worth dying for!
    Today, we (Bebo and I and a good friend who intends to join our merry academic band next quarter) were driving to the college (for the last time this quarter!!!!!  Yay!!) at seven-thirty in the morning.  It was still mostly dark outside, and rain was lashing the earth in buckets and sheets and waterfalls.  The sky was a deep, murky grey, and the horizon was green.  It was a smidgeon spooky, though very beautiful.  I still, however, say that it is immoral to be awake before the sun is.  I mean, if God really wanted us to be out of bed, he would have roused the sun, right?  Therefore, it must not be God's will for people to be up before eight o'clock in the winter time.  It is simply unglodly to arise sooner...
    Yesterday, Bebo and I had our math finals.  Bebo is convinced that he crashed and burned and died, which is a sure sign that he passed with flying colors and will get an A in his class.  Bebo is always freaking out about something, which is detrimental for a hobo, considering that we live a life of constant danger and derring-do.  I sometimes think that Bebo will die of heart failure while pilfering a dumpster one of these days.  He is very similar to Joe; no one shoot a fake gun at Bebo, either, okay?  I'd hate to be left alone without my two whiskery hobo friends...
    Recently, I decorated my (now flooded) cardboard box with a Christmas tree, complete with lights and shatter-proof bulbs and everything.  No star, though; I ran out of money before I could get one.  At any rate, this Christmas tree is simply irresistable to Fiend, my kitten-companion (she likes to chew on my facebook.  Poor Thumpity-Thump).  Fiend loooooooves to climb into, bat at, sniff, shew on, and hide under the Christmas tree, because she knows that she is not allowed to and it makes me frantic when she does (I have this horrible fear that she will hang or electricute herself, or burn the box down).  That kitten is truly a horrendous Fiend.
    Well, Bebo wants to read the nonsense that I have written, so I will post it to oblige him. 

~Hugo

Of facebooks and dumpsters....

Today I overheard a fellow student talk about something....foreign. At least it sounded that way to me. Something about "The Internet" and "Facebook".....hmmmm... I wonder what those are. Well though I have NO GUESS AT ALL as to what the "internet" is, I will attempt to discover what this "Facebook" truly is. 

     Perhaps its is a book of a face. Perhaps the most evil of all faces dwells within that book. Or perhaps that book is FULL of faces, faces staring at you, watching you, looking at you.....I know this sounds like something extremely creepy, but people seem drawn to creepy is this world (If you don't believe me, read twilight) 

    OR perhaps it is the "proper" name for the eyeshade that Hugo the Horrible sleeps with at night. Every night, he lays down on his newspaper mattress and pulls his newspaper coverlet over his filthy hobo clothes. Then he reaches for the old, worn manuscript of Thumpity-Thump Gets dressed. He then places the volume over his hobo eyes and floats off into the happy hobo land of dreams. THIS, dear readers, is a MUCH MORE acurate description of this "Facebook", and I am determined to stick with it. 

    And so, in order to keep up with the times, I shall be acquiring a "facebook" of my own, shortly. I should like that the book be large, but not too large. And old, but not musty. It should have thin pages to conform to the in-congruent features of my face and it should be a comfortable color, particularly the color of hobo soup.....

     I should like that this "facebook" be named Frank. And that frequently we would go on long walks through the litter-strewn streets of Bremerton. Frank will be my ever-present companion when I go dumpster-diving for dinner, and when an unusually kind person drops a coin into my coffee cup, I should like Frank to be there as well.  When I shall "pass away" as all good hobos do, I should like for Frank to be present when my cardboard box is thrown into the garbage truck by the sanitation workers. I expect Hugo and Joe to take care of Frank when I am gone, cleaning him now and then, or buying him a new bookmark to decorate his pages. I think that Frank shall be terrible sad and mournful when I am gone and I expect that he should enter a severe depression at the time of my death and not recover until some ten or thirteen years later. Upon his recovering, he shall be free to become another fashion-forward hobo's "facebook" and serve him well until Frank's pages be ripped and torn and his binding be loose and threadbare. At this times, i should expect Hugo and Joe to take Frank to the dumpster that we shared so many meals in and leave him there to rest.....He should be happy there....

    Yes, I believe that I LIKE this idea of a "facebook", I commend Hugo for being the first to purchase of of these stylish eye-coverings, and I am sure that Joe and I shall be soon joining him in the land of the trendy.....
     Bebo the Hobo

Voldemort’s Nose and Other Uncomfortable Subjects

Hello, reader. Are you procrastinating on something? Whenever I go on Facebook, a blog, YouTube, Netflix, MLIA, etc…, I am procrastinating. When the power is out, there are books. Of course, I use books without power… Am I right in assuming you are procrastinating? (Right now, I’m not (very much). I finished my homework for tomorrow! Aren’t you proud?)

I have decided that, since Bebo and Hugo, who may actually beat me in the art of procrastination, are always busy, that while I wait to post my next blog, each day I will (shortly) write about a few things. Let’s see how long this gets!

11-28-10

1.     Today, while I was washing my face, I saw my nose (without use of a mirror). I’m glad my nose isn’t huge. It’s… medium-average-kinda large. Not giant. It would obscure my vision otherwise! Wouldn’t it? And what about the people with minute noses, such as my sister and mom? What about those with even smaller sniffers? Can they see the outline of their noses? This inevitably led to me thinking about this as it applies to You-Know-Who (AKA, the future Tom Riddle). Yes, I’m a dork.

2.     My sister and I had to wash the cat today. She walked and rolled in something (Heh, sounds like rock ‘n’ roll…). It was a challenge. She’s still younger. She’s feisty. I have battle scars.

11-30-10

1.     If you’re like me, you know that No-Shave-November ends tomorrow. My manly legs have been disturbing my sister, Hugo, and Bebo. Of course, it’s not like I have any reason to dull my razor blade when I haven’t been wearing shorts, skirts, etc… in public (because I may just be wearing shorts now…). Since I still have no need to shave, and I do love to see disturbed faces, I’m not sure if I’ll kill my manliness tomorrow. Hmm…

2.     Yesterday was Switch-shoes-with-someone day! How did you celebrate? Hugo the Horrible was horrible and didn’t participate. I traded shoes with the hobo. We didn’t get to see each other again until this morning, so while his slippers spent the night at my house, they may have had their insides invaded and sneezed on by a cat.

3.     My day was awkward. I scared creepily into three classrooms, walked around campus in the rain, Bebo’s umbrella fell onto my head while I used it, completely failing its duties, breaking at the same time (I’m innocent I tell you, innocent!), silently barged into a class I’m not in right after I covered the outside of my right leg in mud when I slipped while jumping in the unsatisfyingly uncrunchy leaves, and accidentally stalked people, again…

4.     Yesterday, I went to a music store. The man working there was dreadfully friendly, and I’m-so-comfortable-in-my-skin-ish. Somehow, it got to the subject of my writing (Thank you, mother). He inevitably asked the most heinous question he could think of: “What do you write?” I was thinking of the most recent novel I’ve started for NaNoWriMo (Stands for National Novel Writing Month), which contains the unromantic story of a man and woman who accidentally stalk each other, a murder takes place, there are mud fights, spilled food, blood, and loud arguments all in the name of comedy (and adventure mystery). It will, of course, end in the most unexpected way (Hahaha!). And this is the simplified version. My previous work has consisted of almost every genre (I have many incomplete stories, most of which I am still devoted to). I even have one (complete) children’s book. None of these are published. But what should I have done! I told the blasted man that I wrote a variety. He kept prodding me, the insolent man. In the end, I looked like a psychopath. Why, you ask? Well, it ended up with me talking about my more tragic, adventurous, interesting stories where someone always dies. Death, and in diverse and multitudinous ways.

12-01-10

1.     Hugo escaped from school today. She was last seen fleeing to her horse. As such, I had to rely on Bebo to be smart all on his own, along with a friend of ours. I took a test, they held my bag. Once I was done, they had disappeared! They stole my bag. I had to badger the poor receptionist, who turned out to be not so poor, since she took delight in the fact that my friends stole my backpack! After at least fifteen minutes (I’m really not sure how long. They had my cell phone.) I went to class (late), leaving a note with the receptionist. My friends, Hugo aside (for now), are true blondes. They repeatedly called my phone, trying to reach me! Put it together! ‘Tis simple! Then I went to ANOTHER class, leaving ANOTHER note with the amused receptionist. Finally, right as I headed to my last class, I found Bebo. It was about time. I was pretty hungry.

2.     NaNoWriMo ended yesterday. I failed, miserably. I knew I would, but it’s still a sad feeling. If I had done this last year, when I had no life, I’m sure it would have been easy.

12-02-10

1.     I’m a horribly impatient person. Bebo and Hugo have a life, which is why they take their time, and I post my two cents within a day later. Grr. I need a life (even though right now I may be procrastinating in homework, cleaning, reading, and writing for fun. Hmm…).

2.     #1Leads me to #2: I am thinking of starting another blog. Would you follow me, you few readers? This one would mostly be the more serious things that don’t include Bebo and Hugo, those busy hobo friends of mine. The idea is still in the making.

3.     Cheese waffles are amazing. Yum!

4.     Why is cheese a constant thing in my life, either as a writing theme, common ingredient, or way of luring me?

5.     Now I want cheese… But I just had a cheese waffle. Oh, life’s debates.

12-03-10

1.     I am so happy! I could almost sing! But I won’t. I can’t disturb my sleeping cat.

2.     I forgot to bring my cheese to school today. It was a startling realization.

3.     Hugo (bless his ignorant soul) forgot to say that one of us has two days left of school, another one, and the last, zero! Starting with the former, the name equivalent is Bebo, Hugo, and Joe. HAHA! I have triumphed over them. But I should not have said so. Throughout the quarter, I routinely received the cold glares of those hobos. I even got an end-of-the-quarter party in one of them. Of course, they benifitted, as they came in at the end to steal food (It is supposed to be a cold winter this year).

4.     I did end up killing my manliness yesterday (See 11-30-10, #1.). I fell somewhat disappointed, in an odd sort of way.

5.     I’m going somewhere with Hugo tonight. I’m worried because he said that no one, once they have gone there before, ever wants to go again. But I was there two weeks ago. Should I be concerned?

6.     Last night, I was a part of the game Cutthroat Mafia (The Mafia’s randomly selected. You walk around in the dark. If the mafia runs their finger across your neck, you die.). Someone killed me. Later, when I was in the “graveyard,” I asked each Mafia member, as they died, if they had killed me. Every single one said no. I’m on to you, you secret, murderous townsperson!  I will be avenged for this horrid false death of mine. And… please don’t ever fire a fake gun in my direction, ‘kay?

Joe

The Post Belatedly Titled

    Well, the grouchiest of the Desperadoes is back!  And I am just as grouchy as ever, though not quite as bloodthirstily as Bebo seems to believe, as in his last blog he said that I am only taking History next quarter to study gruesome battle scenes.  That is untrue, because, one, I am taking History so that I can laugh at all of the stupid people who have "gone on before" and, two, I only enjoy carnage if I am the one creating it (preferably with a backpack or an umbrella).  Bebo oughtta just play his oboe, that's what he oughtta do.
    At Olympic College, we are on the last day of the last week of the quarter.  This means that a lot of people who have treated attendance rather casually all quarter long have started mysteriously reappearing.  It's funny how proficient college students seem to be at the fine art of playing "now-you-see-me-now-you-don't."  It may be that we are educating our next generation of spies, snipers, and men's bathroom cleaners here at OC.  Who knows?
    Joe, Bebo, and I, of course, have been faithful to arrive here dark and early in rain and hail, tempest and unmanageable traffic, ice and slush, unfinished homework, forgotten breakfasts, suspected appendicitis, fiendish kittens, and other natural catastrophes.  We are very proud of ourselves.  In fact, the only days that Bebo and I have missed have been horse-related: Bebo was off tormenting himself and his lovely equine at some exhibition on the first day of classes, and on this last Wednesday I hauled my Delicate Flower, Hamlet, off to his new Mommy somewhere far to the south of the state.  I'm not sure about particulars, having spent the entire trip either bickering with my parents about horse poop or reading a translation of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. 
    All in all, it has been a fairly, umm, salubrious quarter.  We can now consider ourselves to be veteran college students (as well as veteran commuters!!)  We have attended classes, scraped by, and are now moving on to our second quarter, filled with the trepidation that experience engenders.  Wish us luck! Not that I believe in luck, but it sounds like a nice, cliche thing to say.


~Hugo the Horrible

Of theme songs and full moons...

      If you happened to be in the downtown Bremerton area last Thursday afternoon, you MIGHT have seen a carful of hobos, minus Joe. Perhaps the absence of Joe only fuels our weirdness, but for some reason or another, we are ALWAYS crazier on days that Joe does not attend. This day was no different. Every good sitcom needs a theme song, and yesterday we finally found ours. Of COURSE I am the main character in the song. This ALWAYS happens... so the song. would you like to hear it?? WELL TOO BAD!! because We only sing it on nights when the sky is clear and the moon is full and we are all safely huddled in our cardboard box with an open bag of pork jerky. ONLY THEN, if you were listening, would you hear the faint strains of our stupendous theme song. The tune is a popular tune that we stole from some dude named Yankee Doodle Dandy. Who knows who he is?? (None of us as of yet taken a history course and Hugo is only studying it next quarter to hear of the gruesome battle tales.) I think that Dandy is a weird last name. Perhaps this was not his REAL last name and he only used this name so people wouldn't know he was the main character of a ridiculous song. (Come to think of it, this could be a good idea...) so do you know the song?? OF COURSE YOU DO!! everyone does...So hum the song softly to yourself. Yes. Right here, right now. (But SOFTLY so the person next to you doesn't think you are a complete freak.) humming? good. now repeat after me:


Hobo Bebo plays the oboe
And he plays it well!
Hobo Bebo plays the oboe
Boy, he sure does smell!!


Hobo Bebo keep it up
Hobo Bebo dandy!
Hobo Bebo play that oboe
You sure play it handy!!


Now repeat this 5 times and you will have recreated our stupendous hobo theme song.
congratulations to you.
~BEBO

Cranatoes!

In Bebo’s last post, Bebo said, and I quote, “…they may say that they were thinking about something stupid like painting their nails when I had mentally guessed that they were perfecting their plot of world domination. (This happens often when I talk to Joe...)” Bebo was wrong. I don’t often think about painting my nails, unless I want them to resemble poisonous mushrooms. Oh, that was fun… No, world domination beats out painting my nails. However, I am usually thinking of something mundane or unimportant.

Truthfully, I am a dull person. I am so pathetic that I amuse others. Those urgent care people just couldn’t let it go that I hurt my elbow by slipping on a floor my mother was mopping! In my defense, I hadn’t been expecting her to. It wasn’t… natural. Now, whenever she mops, she makes a great deal about it so I don’t trip and get a concussion, or something. Knowing me, I will.

I expect to inadvertently cause my own death. Will I stumble? Choke? Stab myself? Fall in a toilet and drown (I almost did the other day…)?

Last weekend, I saw Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, part 1. I met a creeper. I saw some delicious ice cream (which I was forbidden from eating). I saw cats on their natural drug. Drugged cats are the best cats! I also pondered whether or not I really saw a donkey head on the side of the road. All in all, it was a weird Saturday.

As Hugo has so wonderfully stated, yesterday was Thanksgiving. Finally, the iced roads began to melt away, so travel was safe. Have we mentioned the horrid snow that hit us this week? No? Well, here we go…

It snowed Sunday, I think. Oh, something like that. On Monday, after we got home, our school shut down. (We had an epic, mind-freezing battle of snow fluffs and balls with one of our dear friends before leaving, though.) Then, I lost power. I freaked out, I must say. All of my classes require the use of a computer, and usually, the internet. In addition, I had procrastinated in one of my classes. Actually, I’m still not finished… One Tuesday, Bebo lost power, but it was of no consequence to him. He spent the day sledding on his little scrap of a cardboard house. I don’t think Hugo ever had to live without electricity. Normally, I don’t abhor snow. It was delightful during my eighth (or was it tenth) birthday party! Snow, of course, hates me. With a passion. It makes me swell at the slightest touch, and no one ever cares, because, after all, it’s just Joe, who’s never healthy, it seems. No, I just hate having no power. It’s not the entertainment, it’s the inability to flush the toilet, take showers, and prepare food that truly irks me.

After that tangent, let me tell you about my Thanksgiving. Almost all of my father’s side of the family lives nearby, even the ones who are so extended from me, I’m not quite sure who they are. However, that dinner was canceled due to a power and broken things issue. That left my immediate family free to stay at the lunch Thanksgiving for an extra three or so hours! This was my mother’s side. They traveled from faraway places, some in cars, and others in planes. The family was together at last!

Have you noticed how foods differ between countries? Restaurants? What about families? I’ve only been to a Thanksgiving with this group once in my memories. What was about to be passed around the very long, three-tables-stuck-together-to-make-one-table table (Which was also new to my buffet-styled dad’s side prototype of a large-scale meal) was about to make me question if I was really the only insane one there. Honestly, I only had four complaints. #1. Gravy? It’s not for me. No, thank you. After this was when I saw someone pour it onto their mashed potatoes. Wait a second. Was that…? Agh! I know gravy comes from meat, but I don’t believe meat belongs in gravy. #2. Oh! Fruit salad? Give it here! Hang on, that’s potato salad. It… Ah! It’s fruit salad! I’m so confused!!! #3. Oh! I love sweet potatoes, yams, whatever you call ‘em! Oh! And they’re cheesy! I love cheese! Um, cheese shouldn’t cook like that, or be so, um… Oh, ew. Not cheese. I repeat, not cheese! Who would even think of putting such odd components together such as yams and marshmallows! Oh. Me. Right… (I really haven’t, but you have no clue what things I’ve put together, but you will!) #4. Speaking of the sweet potatoes lacking cheese, where is the cheese? It’s… not here. It’s not on the table, being passed around in a casserole, on brussel sprouts, or even alone! Quite frankly, the cheese hit me the hardest.

Aside from those little details, I ate well, enjoyed the family I haven’t been around much, and completely died during Uno. Oh, and there was this cute, terribly small dog named Scamp. I wanted him to come home with me. He wanted to come home with me. Of course, my four cats would kill him in a day. I say day only because I know they’d torture him for a while, first. In addition, I would like to say that I have a wonderful product idea. Why? Because I’d eat it.

During the holidays, do you find that your mashed potatoes and cranberry jelly stuff are always the best of friends? Don’t they always combine to make a pink concoction? Do you eat it anyway? Introducing cranatoes! It’s prepared for you in advance, so you have time for other activities! After all, you might as well. They’re going to mix anyway!

Audios!

Joe

Yesterday Was Thanksgiving Day

                Yesterday was Thanksgiving Day, as I am quite certain anyone who may be reading this knows.  Of course, we were all tritely thinking about and remembering to be grateful for all of the nice things that we have, people that we know, animals that we love, books that we’ve read, etc., etc., etc.  We all ate some sort of feast with some number of loved ones, cleaned vigorously, washed mountains of dishes, and went to bed with stomachaches.  What on earth is the appeal of holidays?  They seem sort of stretched thin to me, like Bilbo Baggins after possessing the One Ring for half a century.

 Anyway, that is my very cynical opinion.  I’m a little tired right now, and so naturally even more boring and crusty than usual…  I actually had a great deal of fun yesterday.  I suppose, since this is a Thanksgiving-ish post that I should write out a list of the things that I am thankful for (good grief, I wonder how many times I can use “I” in a paragraph?????”)…

Here goes:  I am thankful for pork jerky, because it is yummy; Trio bars, because they are nourishing; coffee, because it is a very plausible replacer of sleep, which is overrated; Fiend, the kitten, because she is the cutest, funniest thing breathing; books, because they are the essence of my existence; all animals, because they make life nicer in every way; snow and ice, because they caused the cancellation of school so that I didn’t have to finish the two essays and the math test that  were due this week; Bebo, because he keeps me laughing, even when he doesn’t intend to (which really irritates him at times…J); Joe, because he is obsessed with Henry Vincent; and, of course, God, because He is God. 

There.  That is the Trite Thanksgiving Post of the Three Desperadoes.

--Hugo

Telepathetic

     Reading minds is a quality that I do not possess. You may find it odd (many people do!) but I wish I knew what people were thinking. All of the time. Does that creep you out? You're not alone. When I talk to people, I will always stare at their faces and try to guess what they are thinking about. Sometimes I will even ask them what was going on inside their head when they were attempting to listen to the boring rant of this unkempt hobo. They often refuse to answer or they may say that they were thinking about something stupid like painting their nails when I had mentally guessed that they were perfecting their plot of world domination. (This happens often when I talk to Joe...)  So, needless to say, I am not telepathic. In fact, I can't even finish someone else's sentence. Don't get me wrong, I've tried! Really I have! Today, Hugo (the Horrible) was attempting to grasp the perfect word to complete his sentence. I, being the helpful hobo that I am, offered, "Immigrant?" when really he was trying find the word that explained how sturdy his new cardboard box is. I apparently failed epically.  I cannot read minds. I cannot finish sentences. I am pathetic. No, I am telepathetic.....
     Bebo the Hobo

Make Someone Uncomfortable!

    It's International Make Someone Uncomfortable day! I have already made Bebo nervous by my talk of a second brain. I'm also made myself uncomfortable because I have practically no immune system and felt somewhat sick. It's been a successful holiday. Although, I still have school. The making of someone uncomfortable is not deemed worthy enough by our college to grant us a break. I'm in class right now. Oh, what wonderful smell as coffee wafts through this room. I do believe that Bebo, Hugo, and I made the early birds to my class anxious. We were on our computers, laughing and doing certain... things. They don't belong in this class. Oh, the nerve! But they have left, now. I told them to de-smoke the gym, but Bebo was being a rebel to any type of authority.

    I should warn you I'm a distractible person who drifts off into tangents. I apologize in advance for this fault of mine. I met someone today, and they noticed this flaw in minutes. I stayed on topic! I did!!!

    Today I pondered, with my comrades, of the day where I could stick a squirrel under my toque. That's a fancy word for a chef's hat. I learned it today. The only problem with this is that I can't cook. I can't make macaroni in a box! I wonder what the squirrel would make me do... I'd probably be stuffing its cheeks with nuts all day. How I miss that friendly squirrel... Of course, there are some nice ones on campus. I can't wait until I have time to make friends with them!

    I do believe this is where I leave you. Just remember three things: Squirrels are evil. However, they are cute and cuddly, so make them friends. If they are your foes, you will die.

    Joe

Thoughts of The Rambling One

Yes, we were undoubtedly all meant to be hobos.  It's not merely that we are all extraordinarily lazy and fond of astonishing people; it's somehow in our blood...
On the way to college this morning, nothing particularly exciting, like, for instance, a large propellor on the back of a slow truck that took up two lanes, happened.  We laughed and talked about cats: how two of Joe's cats are engaged in some bloodthirsty practices, and how mine, Fiend, is obsessed with stuffed animals.  Also, Bebo was appallingly late, having forgotten his breakfast at home, and I stuck a mascara brush in my eye. 
Joe, for whatever reason (it can be difficult to fathom Joe) likes to take videos of Bebo and I.  However, he misses the really funny things that we do; Wednesday, after he left, we sang opera and breathed like smokers, and yesterday we got attacked by a gangster riding a bicycle with a big gun.  We're okay, though; we fought him off, and that gangster is not going to be bothering any more innocent hobos.
Well, it is almost time for the Most Boring Class on the Face of the Planet (math), so I will draw my nonsensical ramblings to their conclusion.  Toodles!
--Hugo

The beginning of the end....(dramatic I know)

We didn't used to be hobos. It just sorta happened. We were all once quite normal. No, that's a lie. But once we were all expected to behave like normal human beings. But we couldn't. It was just too hard and we couldn't take the pressure. One day we just cracked. People were shocked at first, (Our mothers especially) But they grew to accept it, and us. We didn't know each other then. Didn't have a clue what the future would hold for three hobos. But perhaps one day when the wind blew wild and we were all huddled in Joe's leaky cardboard box. Perhaps we decided we liked the money people dropped in Hugo's still steaming cup of coffee. Perhaps we enjoyed the taste of pork jerky fresh from the bag. Perhaps it was meant to be.....

~Bebo

Who are we? Well...

    

                Hello, there! I'm Joe. My co-authors are Bebo the Hobo and Hugo the Horrible. We're friends. We carpool to school. And we are all interesting in our own unique way. Currently, we're all somewhat surprised we're alive, for different reasons. Being the same is just too dull. Well, that pretty much sums us up.

                Today we saw something on a truck bed, or something like that. We weren’t sure what it was. Canoes, satellites, UFOs, and other things came up. It was like playing charades. I finally screamed out, “It’s a propeller thing!” bouncing up and down in my seat. I must have shaken up Razzle (Bebo’s car) pretty badly. Yes, the hobo has a car. We’re all shocked. In the end, I was right! It was a propeller. Nicely done, Joe. Nicely done. It very possibly may have been the highlight of my day. I’m sure that, if they hadn’t been sitting in the front seats, they would consider it their highlight as well, since I made quite a spectacle of myself. I seem to always be doing that. But someone had to be timed as they ran, or else no one would have even gotten a chance to attain that miniature candy cane! Right?

                Joe