The Legend of Black Bob

Today, I unearthed what is possibly the greatest legend in the history of the University of Colorado at Boulder.

I was hanging out with my friend Meghan at the little pond by her dorm. There were ducks and we decided to be super cool and go get bread from her dorm to feed them with.

We were having a jolly time feeding the ducks and some stupid mean geese that came over (we were playing duck, duck, goose... get it!?) for like 15 minutes when Meghan ran out of bread. We each had 2 pieces. So she started sharing mine. I had only been using little pieces to try and train this one particular duck to catch when I threw the bread to him (and she was SO close to getting it, too...). Then we realized that the little fish that eat your spit (we spent a good half hour spitting into the pond like a month ago and watching the little fish eat it) also liked bread.

After throwing a few crumbs to the fishies, we heard this severely starting noise that sounded like someone had just jumped into the pond right underneath the bridge we were standing on, which of course is preposterous because there are about 3 inches between the water and the bottom of the bridge. Needless to say, we were both scared shitless.

We looked into the water to see what had caused this noise. We couldn't see anything besides the little tiny fishies that were there before. So we dropped our one remaining crumb down into the pond to try and stir some sort of response. It went something like this.

"HOLY MOTHER OF CHRIST!" I exclaimed. "THAT'S BLACK BOB! I'VE ONLY HEARD LEGENDS, BUT HERE HE IS!! IN THE FLESH! Er... SCALES!"

"Black Bob?" Meghan asked. "What the hell is Black Bob?"

"THAT." I said, pointing to the ominous shadow swimming in the murky waters below us. Black Bob is a giant (maybe 2 feet long) catfish that lives in the pond. I had only heard legends about him, but here he was, eating our humble bready offerings. He gets his name from the distinctive black color of his dorsal fin, the last thing you see before he devours your ever-loving soul.

We were a little freaked at first, but once we identified the sound, we were overjoyed and ran back to her room, giggling and cheering and shouting profanities about how cool Black Bob was. We got the rest of the loaf of bread from her room and spent the next 30 minutes feeding the ducks and the geese and the fish, but most importantly, nourishing the tired, hungry soul of the legendary Black Bob.

And that's what I do on Monday nights. Also, I built a Star Wars Lego set today. So. Happy Monday, everyone.