Mr. B is in his fancy-dancy room looking at his huge stack of paperwork. Instead of working, he decides to pull out something we probably would have submitted millennia ago: his six weeks notice that he is leaving his job as Bob's…. whatever he is to Bob.
He's pretty excited about this, and the way that he expresses that excitement is by getting back to work. Man, he is just a wild child isn't he?
Mr. B thinks about his babies, the whales, and he wonders how Bob can be so irritating and so awesome at the same time.
Like, how could the same guy that made swans also make platypodes (that's more than one platypus, guys)? Also, how does he not pay attention to his creations at all except when he wants to shack up with one of them?
Well, these are questions for the ages. Mr. B has too much work to do to spend time pondering the grandiosity of Bob's stupidity.