This is a sort of forum game/rp where we all control the famous Bob Man! The only rules are that you can't erase what has already been established, that if two people post at a similar time and don't see each other, then the person who posted second must edit if their posts conflict and that if Bob Man dies, he must be revived in the same post as he must never die. The only exception to the third rule is if he is sent to an extra dimension through death, which is okay because after all, the story is never ending. I will begin. (I am leaving his appearance, personality and body language open to you guys, so this first post is vague.)
Bob Man was having a lovely day. The birds were chirping, the bright blue sky shone down upon him. Nothing seemed to get in his way. His cellphone began ringing and he rose up from his lawn chair with an elongated sigh. Something was rotten in the state of Massachusetts.
"Yes? Oh, that. Yeah okay. Get off of my-. Hey!" Bob Man cast the phone out to the corner. He had been told not to kill the messager in the past, but this message was so bad that the phone had to be taught a lesson. Perhaps then it would learn not to mess with the almighty Bob Man! Without his phone, Bob Man rushed out to his front lawn in order to face this non-specified challenge! Indeed, something was rotten.
[ OOC: This is supposed to be silly, correct? Cause otherwise this will be considered trolling :| ]
As Bob Man ran down the street, his fat thighs slapped together loudly, causing his neighbors to look out the window to see the amazing 400 lbs man running down the street. The heat and the running caused strands of sweaty pink hair to fall over his eyes. He stopped to form it back into its' usual mohawk, and he used the moment to think, stroking his Fu-Mancho mustache as he did so. He looked back over his shoulder to check over the 20 or so feet he had managed to sprint so far. He sighed,
'This is going to be a long day. EAT PUPPIES!... Not now. Joe Bidens train set was smashed, and I must discover the culprit!' With renewed vigor, he began sprinting again.
(OOC: No, that's fine. Posts can be silly, serious, dramatic or anything. I don't care.)
The first stop, as always was the police station. The chief was sitting at the table, playing with a knife he confiscated off a criminal two days ago. His hand was covered in scratches, undoubtedly due to the fact that he was not very good with knives. Every pawn store in the country sold those knives, and you could always tell who had gotten one as their first by those iconic wrist slashes. The chief spoke up.
"Mornin' to ya Bob Man. The Vice president's train set has been smashed and we know who did it!"
Bob man seemed shocked, but then he exclaimed!
(Please continue someone)