Robby Robb Lewis
Bio
Robby Robb Lewis is an award winning playwright, poet, cartoonist and creator of Computer Funnie Cartoons. He is a sailor and his adventures are sure to amuse you.
Stories (9)
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My Million Dollar Hand Job.
First, for all you perverts out there, this is not what you think so keep moving. Come to think of it, I did pinch a little girl’s butt and that is what started this whole fiasco, so I guess you can stay. See, it all started in seventh grade when I got in trouble for pinching a little girls big butt. As a grown up, I now know it was wrong and a sexist thing to do and I highly discourage all activities like this or similar. As a kid, I thought it was a sign of affection. I was wrong. The girl told the teacher and I was quickly reprimanded. I apologize and all was forgiven. After learning from my mistake, I deducted that it wasn’t a good thing to do. See, I can learn. Weeks later, during a heated argument in math class, between Elsie and Tera, their names have been changed to protect the innocent, and I about some trivial math problem, I told them, “Everybody knows that women can’t do math”. I got angry and pinched Elsie’s butt. I knew it was a bad thing so I immediately ran towards the classroom exit. Elsie turned to Tera and said, “Let’s get him”, and they both began to chase me out the door. Me, being an after school athlete, quickly sprinted out the door and down the large hallway leading to the cafeteria. Not wanting to run through the cafeteria because it might slow me down, I decided to exit the side door to the courtyard. As I approached the door my right hand aimed for the metal piece on the door but it missed it and hit one of the six segmental windows. The glass shattered and I immediately pulled my hand back. What I saw looked like Arnold Schwarzenegger in Terminator, when he pulled the skin off his hand. Instead of metal, I saw bones. My hand had exploded. I stood in shock looking at my hand. By this time, Elsie and Tera had caught up to me. I turned to them for help, I guess, but they immediately started running and screaming in terror. I shouldn’t said that sexist women joke. Is God a woman? Hmmm. Anyway, I turned towards the cafeteria, the nurse’s office was just on the other side, and started slowly walking. I keep repeating, in a low tone voice while holding my wrist with my left hand, emergency.
By Robby Robb Lewis2 years ago in Writers
Halloween? Barf up Jelly Beans!
There are a few rumors and doubts about me floating around from my childhood. Did he really draw boobs on the blackboard? Did he really put chocolate chip cookies on bread and make a cookie sandwich? Did he really cause a paper fight in class, when there was a substitute teacher present, and made her cry? Did he really bet a kid he wouldn’t pee on the bathroom boiler heater, which caused the entire left wing of the middle school to be evacuated? Did he really barf in a bowl of jelly beans at a school Halloween party? In all honesty, some I can’t remember, but there is one that does stick out in my mind. You see, in our house, we always ate regular food. Nothing fancy, unless it was a birthday, pay-day, holiday or something to celebrate. I loved sweets, but my mom always monitored the amount I could eat. I always wanted more, but when she said enough, she meant it. I always hated that, but one day, in cold October, I had a plan. I would hardly eat nothing for breakfast or lunch that day because I knew the first grade Halloween party was coming up in last period. We could sit in homeroom and eat candy. I loved jelly beans and I know they loved me back because I could hear them calling to me from way down the hall. Oh how I was so excited to walk into my homeroom and see a big bowl of them starring me right in the face. I ignored the other cookies and candies. I wanted jelly beans. We all sat quietly for a spell. “Ok class, you may get some goodies to take back to your seat.” Ms. Bondry, our first grade teacher, said wearily, with her head buried deep in a book. I jumped up and push the weaker kids aside. There was always that one big kid who led the way. I got to the jelly bean bowl and filled my mouth and pockets so quickly, Ms. Bondry didn’t even notice me. Oh glorious day! I went back to my seat and finished the rest of them off, in less then a minute, because I didn’t want the bowl to go empty. I slithered back over to the bowl, as Ms. Bondry’s head was still buried in that book. Must have been a good book because she did not notice me going over to the bowl about nine or ten more times. With no voice saying, “Bobby, that enough”, like at home, I went back one more time to top my stomach off. All of a sudden, I hard a rumbling sound and felt my stomach jerk. I reached the bowl and placed another handful in my mouth. I swallowed. What I thought was just going to be a routine burp turned out to be something much worse. I projectile vomited directly into the bowl of jelly beans. The other kids jumped up from their seats. Some were laughing. Some were ewwwing and some were just plan disgusted. Ms. Bondry jumped from her chair yelling my name. “Bobby!” I fell to the floor holding my stomach and moaning, “Kill me…Somebody kill me!” The pain was excruciating. I started expelling gas loudly. Ms. Bondry dragged me to the in-class bathroom were I expelled every jelly bean, I have ever eaten in my entire young life, that day. From that point on, before every school party, the phrase “Is Bobby going to be there?” was repeated. I felt so low, but it definitely taught me a lesson…Mother is always right.
By Robby Robb Lewis4 years ago in Humans
How to make a six-year-old white girl try to jump out a school bus side window.
My childhood was filled with bullying. The sad part was it was from my own race. Not saying it would have been better if it was not, but trying to be brought down, at an early age, by your own race, really sucks! All because my skin was a darker tan, I was constantly reminded that I was different, unique, and even an outcast. The nicknames they taunted me with were highly creative, even though they are cool and commonplace, in today’s society. As I learned later, the ones that did it were only doing it to hide their own short comings. Some had bad breath, buck teeth, nappy hair, weight problems and many more things that were so apparent, to me, in my latter years. I would obliterate them in the dozens (word contest of insults), as I got older. That is why the cowards felt content to pick on a six-year-old rather than someone their own age. What losers! They know who they are. Shame on them. Today every Teacher, Bus driver, Principal or Caregiver would have brought them up on charges. But me, I had my brother and sister. They did not take no stuff off of anybody. I felt protected when they were around. They fought back. I love them so much for helping me through those tough years. The problem was when they exited the school bus, where most of the bullying took place, I had to fend for myself. Even though most of the main bullies left with my brother and sister, some remained. You see, they were in middle school, when I was beginning elementary school. The bus always let them off first. As we got older, my brother moved on to high school. Even though they did not mess with him so much. I guess it was because he had the look of Apophis from the Stargate tv series. They feared him. After he left, it was just my sister and me. This one day, my sister and I were getting bullied pretty bad. My sister was as tough as nails. She would have given Mike Tyson a run for his money. I can hear Howard Cosell now… “Down Goes Tyson! Down Goes Tyson!” And me? I was getting ready to deploy my three secrets weapons to get me out of any situation, stuttering, crying and lastly, the unspeakable, vomiting. As the bus pulled up to the middle school, I was sitting next to Louise, a little white girl in my class. As my sister got up to leave the bus, I begged her not to go or, at least, let me go with her. I deployed secret weapon number one, stuttering. Still, no joy. I deployed secret weapon number two, crying. I just got a look of sympathy. I deployed one and two together, but all I got was a headshake, no. I always carried a pleather book bag with me to school. It laid across my lap. As my sister exited the bus, I deployed secret weapon number three and vomited on top of my book bag. It sprayed out like a fire hose. The whole bus freaked out! I turned to Louise and said… “Here, hold this for me, please.” What? I said please. As I moved it over to her, the vomit teetered mostly in the middle, but some ran off the side. Louise immediately lowered the top of the two segmental school bus window and proceeded to try and squeeze out of it. She went wild, as she clawed and scratched at the window. She was yelling and screaming. My thoughts were “This white girl is going crazy.” Louise was still struggling to get out the side window, as the bus driver hurried back and pulled her back inside and took me, and my book bag, upfront to the trash can. The bus became quiet as the smell of vomit filled the air. The other kids were coughing and holding their noses. Again, secret weapon number three saved the day. I got to ride in the front seat all by myself and the bullying stopped. Well, at least for the rest of the ride to my school.
By Robby Robb Lewis5 years ago in Confessions
Boobies on the Blackboard
I have always considered myself the class clown. Well, at least to me, my jokes were funny. On my tombstone, I was told, they were going to write, “He thought, he was funny.” You see, my comedy started way back in the first grade. The thought of making other people laugh was so satisfying to me. I loved being a stand up comedian. On show and tell days, I never brought anything to show, but boy, could I tell. I would talk about the weekend escapades at my house or make up some fantasy story about how Big Foot came to my window last night. The other kids ate it up. I would have them leaning forward in their tiny little chairs wanting more. It was just harmless fun. Fake spiders on desks. Making milk come out my nose. Putting chocolate cookies on bread to make my famous, cookie sandwich. Throwing up in a bowl of jelly beans at a Christmas school party. Wait, that wasn't on purpose, but that's another story. Anyway, it was all to make a person laugh. But, in every comic's life, there comes his big break. You see, that was back in the days when the bathroom was in the classroom by the door. I always dreamed about what I would do, if the teacher ever took a restroom break during class. You see, that was rare. They always waited until recess or lunch time. But they never, ever, left kids alone in the classroom for an extended amount of time. I realize now, it was probably because of kids like me. Hmmm, an awakening. Anyway, I don't know what Ms. Bondry, (name changed to protect the innocent), ate the night before, but by the way she kept grabbing her stomach, you could tell she was not feeling well that morning. Then, the unthinkable happened. "Kids, you all finish writing the alphabet. I will be right back." OMG! She went to the restroom. Slam! The bathroom door closed. I jumped out of my seat. I looked at the other kids in the room. A look of anticipation dawned on their bright little faces. I was in the spotlight. I was stunned, but then it hit me. What did I love more then Ironman? Boobies! I quickly ran to the blackboard, and began to draw the biggest pair of boobies I could. From top to bottom. From side to side. Big. Round. Huge. Boobies. You get the point. The class was in an uproar. A flush sound was heard, as I placed the chalk back on the tray underneath the blackboard, and began to fight my way through the chairs back to my desk. As I turned to sit down, my eyes met Ms. Bondry's eyes coming out of the bathroom for a split second. I sat down and the class became quiet. a few mumbles were heard as she approached the blackboard. She stood for what seemed like an hour looking at my masterpiece. My mind raced. Did she see me? Dead silence filled the air. She turned around and scanned the classroom. She passed me. Whoa! I was safe. Yippee! She scanned back in my direction. Oh no. Was I caught? "Bobby, (please do not ever call me that now or we will have a problem) did you do this?" My mouth dropped. I had no response. All of the sarcastic words, I had come to learn in my young mind had left me. But... I still had my three secret weapons to get out of any bad situation. You see, I always had a stutter. That was number one go-to plan. I began to stutter furiously, to try and get sympathy. "Kids, sit quietly. Bobby come with me." My second go-to plan was deployed. I cried like a newborn baby. There is just something about children's tears that pull at the heart strings of adults. It failed. She was really mad. I began combining one and two, but that didn't even work. If they called and told my mom what I did, I knew, I would never make it to second grade. Vergie didn't play that! I figured right then I had to go where no kid has gone before. Number three! As we approached the principle's office door. I vomited on the door, in the hallway and on Ms. Bondry. I fell to the floor like a sniper hit me. Finally, it worked. They took me to the nurse's office, and the boobies on the blackboard incident, as it was later to be called, was never spoke about again. Until now.
By Robby Robb Lewis5 years ago in Confessions
My Father-in-Law's Bright Idea
Many people have been alike over the years. My recently departed, father-in-law and I were that type. His first name was Robert, like mine. He was a Leo, like myself. He was crazy about fishing, and so am I. With this type of chemistry, I knew that when we went fishing in was going to be adventure. I just didn't know that the chemistry would bring so much rain. We went fishing approximately seven times together and each time we got wet. This fall we had just planned our eighth fishing trip in my new Mako 19, when he un-expectantly passed from leukemia. We never got to break the curse that surrounded our fishing trips for years. Each time each trip seemed to be worse then the previous. Each trip always started out the same way, calm. Our sixth trip together was no different. About 15 years ago, I brought aluminum Grumman, "V" bottom, bass boat. My brother-in-law, Willie Moore and I installed stick steering in it, placed a Chrysler 25hp on the back with an 18lb thrust trolling motor in the front. We fished most of the ponds and lakes around Dover, DE. Later, I joined a bass fishing club, and still only used the boat to fish in fresh water tournaments, even though I loved saltwater surf fishing too. One day in late fall, my father-in-law, Robert English, came up with an bright idea. "Let take your boat to Deal Island, in Maryland, to catch some real fish." Now, when it comes to fishing, I am usually game for anything. I'll try anything once. I agreed. We headed out early Saturday morning from his house, where I kept my boat, in Kenton, De., and towed the boat to a Deal Island. The day seemed like any other day, and the weather report mentioned a possible shower, but that wasn't supposed to happen until late in the afternoon. We were good to go. As we headed out to the bay area, a feeling of awe crested into my body. The unknown, along with the rumors of saltwater fishing, and its plentiful bounties. Oh, and don't forget about "Jaws." Oh, well. I don't know why but the phrase, "We need a bigger boat" kept haunting me. This was the first time that I had been in saltwater, let alone, in my little bass boat, and the enjoyment was one that will play over and over in your mind for an eternity. As I anchor, my father-in-law baited his hook, and immediately caught several spot. I followed, and did the same. We begin hauling in spot and croaker two at a time. This WAS fishing. We spent the morning filling our two coolers full of medium size fish. Then, in a blink of an eye, my father-in-law hooked something that started taking his thirty to fifty pound line off of his real at an alarming rate. I swore I heard the theme from, "Jaws" playing around the boat. Before he lost all of his line, I pulled anchor, and the fish proceeded to pull us slowly across the bay. The tension mounted as his fought this thing for twenty minutes. Never have I seen a fish fight so hard. In bass fishing, if he isn't in the boat in a few minutes, you should take up sewing. Whatever this thing was, it wasn't too friendly. Finally, it got to the boat, and this huge mass turned on its back. It was a stingray or skate, I never could tell the difference, with a wingspan larger then the hood of a car. The boat rocked as this creature began throwing water upon us at a constant rate. I picked up the oar. I wasn't for sure whom I was going to hit. This giant winged creature, or my father-in-law, if he tried to bring this thing aboard this little boat. As the chaos continued, he pulled out his knife, and cut the line. It sounded line a gun going off as the ray circled the boat a few times before heading back down to the depths of the bay. A feeling of relief engulfed my body. "Wow, I guess he was pissed, huh? "As we re-anchored, and started catching more small fish throughout the morning and into early afternoon, we notice dark clouds forming at a distance. We were only a few miles from the ramp, so we decide to fish a little more. At the first sign of lightning, we were to pack our gear and head in. We spotted lightning. "Lets get out of here." We started packing up. Other boats also started heading in as the sounds of thunder began to accompany the lightning. I choked the motor, and with one mighty and quick pull, SNAP! The string came off in my hand. Our mouth's dropped open. Immediately, my father-in-law dropped the trolling motor, and guided us to the ramp. I thought, "No, this can't be happening." I desperately began the painful process of retying the starter string. Like an old lawn mower, it took time. The first drop fell about five minutes into the trip home. I was almost finished retying the string when the sky let out a tremendous roar. I thought we were hit by lightning. The bay became rough, and the rain began to dance throughout the boat. Once you hear the sound of huge, icy raindrops hit an aluminum haul, from the inside, you'll never forget it. I finished wrapping the started, and pulled the engine a few times. It finally started as a blinding sheet of rain impaired our vision. Instead of going all the way to the channel, I decided to head back to the ramp, as the crow flies. I figure my boat's draft was shallow enough to make it, and this would also save us a lot time. I was wrong. I forgot about the long shaft of my main motor. Approximately five hundred yards from the ramp, we ran aground. The water in the boat was almost covering the trolling motor batteries. Thank goodness it didn't short them out. We lifted the big motor, and used the trolling motor to get us back in deeper water. Other boats offered a hand, but we told them that we hand things under control. I restarted the main engine, and drove the boat full throttle to the dock. We jumped out of the boat, ran to his truck, and waited for the storm to pass. There was not a dry place on our bodies. After about a half-hour of pounding, the storm subsided. My Grumman, still floating, looked like a kiddie pool. The boat was almost half full of icy water. After wincing it to the trailer at an angle that allowed most of the water to exit, we got it back on the trailer. We laughed all the way back to Kenton, DE. This was out sixth trip together, and it would be nothing compared to our upcoming seventh trip, but that's another story.
By Robby Robb Lewis5 years ago in Families
