Bob is born!!!

Name: Bob Smith
Race: Human
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Golden brown
Height: 6’2”
Weight: 210 lbs
Age: 25

Appearance: Tall, muscular, and cut, though not bulky, an athlete in every sense. He has soft, golden brown hair that falls to the nape of his neck in gentle waves, framing startlingly beautiful blue eyes. An Apollo in the very definition of the term, his perfect body and shockingly great looks make women swoon in ecstasy and men cry in jealousy and pain.

Personality: A good guy, though cursed, once with his amazing looks, once with his mundane name, and once… well, we’ll get to that one in a minute. He’s always ready to help out a friend, or help a girl feel good about herself. A gentleman, but an all around regular guy.

Strengths: Physical prowess through his years of training in sports. He’s fast, fast enough to escape all those who might seek to catch him and put a stop to his dream. Not just another pretty face, he excels in science and hopes to teach chemistry and physics at a top school one day.

Weaknesses: The curse placed upon him, which I will explain in his history, is the greatest hindrance to his dream. He is not immune to the pretty face either, which is the greatest hindrance to his education, though he tends to prefer the more ordinary looking girl, enjoying how their self esteem rises as he shows them how beautiful they really are. Bob just likes women. All types of women. Not a womanizer, but he enjoys beauty in all its forms and believes that all women are beautiful in some way.

Weapons: C’mon, now. Who’d really want to mess up a face like this… *wiggles eyebrows*

Armor: o_O… That would rather defeat the purpose.

History: His childhood was ordinary. Just like his name. Loving parents, sibling rivalries, schoolyard friends, all of it, perfectly ordinary. He was the starting quarterback all the way through highschool, got into an Ivy League school on a football scholarship, and got good grades, despite frat parties and dating, and general collegiate antics.

Ordinary…

He longed for something that would make him stand out. His ordinary name, and ordinary life grated on him. He would make his mark on the world. He would do something to make people remember him. Everywhere they looked, there he would be, etched into the very culture of the world! Never to be overlooked, never to be forgotten… But, how?

Then, one day, while watching the Oscars, he had an idea.

There was Halle Berry on the stage, accepting the award for best actress, or best on screen makeout, or something, and this dude, runs down from the back of the theatre, across the stage, slaps Halle Berry on the butt, and runs backstage. All in nothing but his sneakers and a ski mask. The security guards couldn't catch him. The man ran like an Olympic sprinter. And, there on his couch, Bob found his life’s calling.

He would become the world’s greatest streaker, The Streak. Sports events, awards ceremonies, beauty pagents, no public event would be safe! His crowning achievement, you ask?

The State of the Union Address. He would run in all his Adonis-like glory and jump on the table, kiss the president’s balding head, and hurdle the secret service before running across the reflecting pond in front of the Washington Monument!

His first appearance was the graduation podium at his college. Mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters all in attendance. People covered their eyes, nearly blinded by his great manliness; women drooled, men cried. He ran across the stage, kicked the dean in the rear, and bolted across the football field, out of sight. He made it into the school paper, even the local papers displayed him in all his besneakered, if blurred-out, glory.

His next major stop, his home state’s beauty pageant, with a kiss smack on the lips of the newly crowned Miss Wyoming, he ran backstage only to be stopped and confronted by… the new winner's fairy godmother.

“Never shall you embarrass another girl as you have my charge this evening!” she decreed. And, as punishment, she cursed him with "The Curse of Eternal Modesty". Never again would the world view him in all his godlike greatness, for always something would block their view of his nether regions. Never again would they marvel at his hard, well-shaped, gravity defying gluteus maximus. Never again would the men kill themselves for jealousy as their wives left the stands to chase him.

He couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t believe it. This was a sham, a farce, a poor practical joke pulled by Miss Wyoming's jealous boyfriend! He brushed the obese, grey-haired, winged woman aside, and went home.

The next morning he woke up, and turned on the shower. Strangely, the steam, instead of starting at the ceiling and working down the mirrors, stood, like a fog, at waist level. When he put his towel on, and went back to his bedroom, he moved to get dressed. His towel was stuck. It wouldn’t come off! Finally, it slipped from his hips as he slid his boxers on under it. Only later would he figure out that this was because his blinds were open and there was nothing to block the view into his bedroom from the outside world. Later that evening, he went on a date with his girlfriend. Dinner, a movie, and back to her place. Things got rather hot and heavy after this until… his underwear was stuck. No kidding. The tighty whities wouldn’t budge! Needless to say, such a predicament has a way of killing the mood, and she kicked him out, thinking that for some unknown reason, he just didn’t want her anymore, and he was making excuses. It had to be an excuse, who’d believe that someone’s underwear was stuck on, just because someone else could see?

His love was now lost to him, and all that was left to him was his hobby, his ambition; to run naked at the State of the Union Address, and kiss the president’s head.

He went on with his mostly ordinary life, working, sleeping, dating (though now forcibly celibate, much to his chagrin), until the date of his greatest escapade yet. The Superbowl. Janet Jackson will have nothing on me!, he thought as he removed his clothes in a bathroom stall. In nothing but his sneakers and Zorro-like mask, he made his way onto the field. It was halftime, the band marched, the cheerleaders frolicked, the music played, and Bob Smith streaked for all he was worth across the greensward. The people gasped, wives’ eyes were covered, and no one could catch him as he escaped the stadium.

Bob arrived home that night to watch the tape he had made of the halftime show. He hit play, and fell back on the couch in disbelief. There was no way! A drink cooler, a snare drum, a cheerleader’s leg, and finally, a tuba blocked his glory from view, all the way across the field! “NO! My glory, my dream stolen from me by a darn tuba! They didn’t even blur me… not once.”

Now, he couldn’t deny it any longer. He knew the fairy godmother’s curse was no joke. He had to find a way to break the spell, or he would never live his dream, cursed to a life of Bob Smith-like unknown. He searches night and day for the fairy godmother of BobbyJo Montgomery of Wyoming. That terrible creature who cursed him to a life of anonymity and celibacy...

Character theme: “The Streak” by Ray Stevens

OoC: Here he is. My gift to the BA, the fruit of my insanity, and it's very first multiple battler character. I'm going on a sort of extended hiatus, due to moving into my very own apartment, (YAY!!! ^^) and not having a computer of my own (BOO!!! ).

Bob is a unique char in that he is not meant to be used by only one BA member. I bequeath him to be used freely by all who wish to make the BA a brighter, if somewhat crazier place. Help Bob on the way to his dream by allowing him to run free, galavanting through your OoC comments, leaving his mark on every thread (in a NON-SPAMMING way). Today the BA, tommorow the president's balding head!

Why you ask? As a reminder that the BA is about having fun, and that needen't always involve bloodshed and angst. And, to lay to rest the arguments that always crop up when someone introduces a ridiculous, nonsensical, just plain fun character like this. IT'S OKAY TO BE SILLY HERE!!! It's okay to have silly characters, it's okay to have food fights, it's okay... it'll be alright... I promise.

In my absence, I leave him in the guardianship of LEA, to make sure he is used, but not abused unduly.

*huggles Ry-san* I'm really gonna miss you, big sis. *tear* BUT! I shall be happy for you! I realize how good of an opportunity this is for you. However, I will eagerly look forward to seeing you on the weekends when you can get home to check your e-mail. ^^ I'm so glad we got to be as good of friends as we are. Thanks for helping me through all those crazy times. You know what I'm talking about. *wink* Once again, I bid you farewell. You may be gone, but you WILL NOT be forgotten. Bob will certainly see to that! And I gladly take him into my custody. He shall achieve his dream through the OoC comments of those privileged enough to use him! *huggles again* Good luck to you, big sis. ^^

*stamps very, very clearly with a massive stamp of approval*