Toby Jones loved his baths. He would sit in a bathtub, foamed and warmed, all day and all night. He loved to lie there pondering things that are much too big to simply ponder. And he would sit and ponder all day and all night. You see, Toby Jones had not left his bath in twenty six years.
When he was nine he had gotten in and had never gotten out. When he was ten he slipped and broke his leg and he sat with it in the air while his doctor made a house call to cast it. When he was fourteen he asked a girl over for dinner and a movie. She sat on the toilet, the strangest date of her life. His mother had fought, his father had left, and his grandfather died of cancer much to his chagrin, but he never left his bubbles.
When he was sixteen he designed a mechanics system that would allow his bathtub to become mobile. When he was twenty he finished building it. When he was twenty one he finished implementing and he strolled out of the house on his mobile tub.
Since, he has been riding from State to State, making his tub faster and stopping over for hot water refills in the local inns. In Texas he rode a mechanical bull, but they kicked him out for sloshing. In California, he went to a punk show, but they kicked him out for moshing. He met the President in Washington, Mickey in Florida, and Lady Liberty in New York – although what a squeeze to get that tub to the top! He was featured in Guinness and all the local news; he even had a meeting with Ripley before the year was out.
Toby Jones saw a long life ahead of him, endless possibilities and many countries to visit. And he could do it all without leaving his tub – all day and all night.
No comments:
Post a Comment