“Not all those who wander are lost.” J. R. R. Tolkien


Who is Hobo Joe?

Hobo Joe is a fictional series that will be appearing periodically on Tripoart.com

Joe is a young guy who got kicked out of his family’s house because his terribly chosen friends stole and destroyed many of his dad’s favorite irreplaceable possessions during one of the most insane parties of Joe’s young life. Now he has to learn to live and survive on his own. He’s smart and resourceful but also likes to live life like a wild man.

Where will Joe’s journey take him next?!


This series is based on survival, partying and the interesting and whacked out characters encountered during Joe’s travels. It is filled with adult themes, therefore it may contain vulgarity, drug/alcohol use, and sexual scenarios. Please don’t continue to read if you are easily offended by this type of content.


Part One – The Departure

Part Two – The Crow

Part Three – Welcome to Amish Country

Part Four – The Game Master

Part Five – The Brent Hill Keeper Job

Part Six – Living in Alabama!


This is Part Seven of Hobo Joe:


On the Boat with Billy Bob


Day Thirty-Three to We’re Not Really Sure Anymore ?

“Ohh Gad damn them girls are fine,” Billy Bob mumbled under his breath.

The sisters were both sunbathing without any bikini tops on, out front upon the deck of the boat and I was in the control room with Billy Bob.

“Dang Joe, where’d you find these girls?” he asked me with a twinkle in his big blue eyes.

I didn’t want to say that I found them at the beach while I was tripping balls on acid so I just said, “I found them at the beach and we hit it off one night at a nightclub.”

“Wow then and damn me, they are lovely. That’s for sure.”

“Yes, you’re absolutely right Billy Bob. You know, in their country every woman runs around topless in front of the sea. It’s part of their culture.”

“Ain’t that something else,” he said, with his mouth moving along up and down. He was chewing on some extra-spicy beef jerky.

“Yup, it is. Anyways, when are you gonna teach me how to steer the ship and use the radio and all that?” I asked him, anxious to learn.

“Damnit, I told you Joe, I’m the captain! Your only job is to scrub the decks, make sure everything is clean and in order and make sure we don’t run into any pirates, sharks or whales. You’re in charge of lookout. That’s it! You got that?” he exclaimed sternly, with a fire red face.

“I know, that’s what I’ve been doing, but I still want to learn the technical stuff and the tricks of the trade too,” I demanded.

“Damnit, I already told you… shiiit. Now go out there and scrub the decks with your little princesses. Hurry up, you’re starting to piss me off!” he ordered.

So, that’s what I did. I left the control room and commenced with the scrubbing, which was about as boring as you can imagine it might be, but I didn’t really mind. It was all part of the adventure. Even still, I wish he would teach me more about shipmanship, but he kept all his trade secrets to himself. Oh well, at least we were out here in the deep blue sea on our way to the Caribbean. What a beautiful part of the world. All of us were happy. The sun was shining hot overhead. I couldn’t have asked for a better adventure or better company, and the younger sister Ginka was starting to give me the eye. You know the, “you want to get a little closer to me?” kind of look. But I respected Boyka, so I didn’t give her back the same look, but it wasn’t easy. It took every ounce of my willpower to resist her exotic gaze. She was even more beautiful than her sister.

The sea was absolutely spectacular. The waves were calm and we were now several days away from the States. I longed to know what we were transporting but Billy Bob wouldn’t tell me. He just said it was a shipment for a client. I noticed there was a locked room where he never allowed any of us to go into…

“Is dinner ready yet? I’m hungry,” exclaimed Billy Bob, rubbing his big round tummy.

I quickly went down to the kitchen to make sure the girls were preparing everything to his liking. I think he was sick of eating Bulgarian style food every night. So we decided to make his favorite dish: fried fish, french fries, okra, and warm rum. Thankfully, we had several kegs of it on board which helped to fight off boredom and scurvy.

Everything was all set and steaming on the table. Emitting delicious smells across the cabin.

“Oh my, this looks delightful,” said Billy Bob, with a big Southern grin.

“You kiddies are really something else. You know my cousin died just last week. He was in his backyard mowing the lawn with his riding mower and he stepped off the thing for a moment to move a branch out the way. He must a forgotten his glasses at home because it wat’nt no branch. It was a cottonmouth and that son of a bitch bit im right in the damn face. Poor cousin Jeffrey Talbert. He died right there. Right in the backyard. We didn’t have a chance to get him to the hospital. That venom. That’s something else right there.” He spoke softly and the teardrops began to fall, not many, but enough to know that he was still feeling a wave of inner loss.

He sat at the table with a piece of half-chewed fish hanging out of his big mouth as he wept for his cousins’ death. The very death that was the reason we were aboard the boat in the first place.

“This one is for you Jeffrey,” we all lifted up our shot cups and saluted to old cousin Jeffrey. The once great sailor (according to Billy Bob). As we did so the boat waved on the dark seas and Jeffreys spirit was remembered in an honorable way.

“Okay, that’s enough of this sad shit. Do you kiddies like music?”

“Yes we do,” we all responded.

“Alright, listen to this then.”

Billy Bob got up and put a CD into the stereo. We listened attentively.

It was the funniest thing we ever heard. An old redneck melody. And he knew all the words. It had a soft twangy beat and it helped to brighten his mood. He stepped back and began to twirl and spin around. His big husky body bounced all about the tiny kitchen with ease. Every one of his moves synchronized with the song. He really put on a show, singing along with lyrics that I could barely understand, while the banjo played and the drum made its rhythmic beats. As he sung and reached a climax, so did Billy Bob. Literally. He held onto his chest with his greasy hand, grasping it with all his strength, singing the highest of notes, the last sound that he ever made… and smash! His body collapsed straight downwards. His head smacked onto the edge of the table. Plates of food flopped into the air and he dropped with a sudden loud thud.

“Holy shit!” we all shouted in unified shock.

“What the hell! What happened?”

“He must of had a heart attack,” I exclaimed.

His big fat body just laid there and we didn’t know what the hell to do. The girls started to panic and scream.

“Wait, wait don’t shout, just relax!” I suddenly had a bright idea in my head.

“Do you know how to steer the ship?” they asked me.

“Well, no I don’t but it doesn’t matter, cause I think we have something valuable on board.”

“Really?” Their ears perked right up.

“Yes, I over heard Billy Bob talking to a customer about the delivery. Let’s go check it out.”

We went down the stairs. I had a little hatchet that I found in the emergency supply kit. There was a pretty big lock on the door but after a couple of swings the lock was toast. We went in the room. Turned on the lights. A chest with a lock on it rested in the corner. It was about three feet long and a foot and a half deep. It looked like a real treasure chest to me. Made of wooden slats and brass hardware.

“Joe, what is that?”

“I have no idea, but stand back. We’re gonna find out!”

I smashed it open with my hatchet. Piece of cake. The lock went flying in the air, crashing against a wall. We opened it up and we were all absolutely exhilarated to see that it was full of gold and silver coins. The chest weighed at least sixty pounds and it was packed to the max.

“Holy shit Joe, look at that! We are rich!” said Ginka, with big eyes full of joy and excitement.

“Shhhh, quiet,” I said.

I noticed an electronic device sitting on top of the coins. It was beeping and had a little flashing light. It must have been a tracking responder. Who the hell transports coins with a guy like Billy Bob to the Caribbean? I thought to myself completely flabbergasted.

Here you go. I passed the hatchet to Boyka and placed the tracker on the floor. She smashed it into a hundred pieces!

“Now, we are rich girls. Okay, listen, we need to get the fuck off of this boat!”

“What? Why?” they asked me, perplexed.

“We need to get away and hide on one of the nearby islands.”

I had been seeing small islands throughout the past few days of our journey and I knew we could hide on one of them if we had to.

“We’ll take the coins. Whoever owns these will be looking for us. So we need to destroy the boat.”

That’s exactly what we did. We took out all the rum, some scuba/fishing gear, food, baking soda, gasoline, everything we could fit on the little wooden rowboat we had. And the most precious cargo of all of course – the gold.

“God rest your soul Billy Bob.”

I’m sure he would have been happy to be cremated at sea. We drenched the entire ship with lighter fluid/gasoline and when we were several yards away, safely in our little boat, we shot it up with the flare gun and boom! The whole thing went up in flames.

The reflection of the flames were seen bouncing upon the night-time waves. So elegant they were, and the ashes floated into the atmosphere until they finally fell to the sea. Swallowed up by its all-consuming immensity.

It was three o’clock in the morning. Land was a few kilometers away.

“Girl’s, let’s just keep on rowing.”

We rowed along and we all felt like little thieving pirates. Carrying our booty to a new island in the middle of nowhere, hidden by a dark Caribbean night. It was wild. We had a chest full of precious coins and I was with two hot Bulgarian sisters. Damn, what’s next?


About two months later…

Boyka came running towards me at full speed. Screeching and sprinting like an enraged tiger. When she was close, she lunged herself into the air and right into me with her shoulder, throwing both of us to the ground.

“Joe you asshole, why’d you do it, why!” she screamed as she slapped me to shit.

“What, what’s wrong sweetheart?”

Up unto that point, I was having a pretty good day. I had just finished harvesting some oysters and other snacks with a pack of dolphins that I’d been hanging out with. I was about to toke up the fire, have a smoke, and cook dinner and now I had this crazy enraged woman on top of me, wrestling me in the sand!

“Joe, I can’t believe you,” she yelled, smashing me in the gut with her knee, “she, she’s pregnant. You mother fucker!”

Whoops, now I understood why she was so upset!


And the Hobo Saga continues…


Charles DuFont

Creator of Tripoart, the best art promotion site!

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