Big Bob's Tin

Big Bob misplaced a tin earlier this year and somewhere, a volcano exploded.  Likely, somewhere over in Japan where there is no such thing as blue-collar work.  When Big Bob discovered it was Bralph that took the tin out on loan without asking him, we had to go hide behind LeAnn Rimes to not get our shit wrecked.  Big Bob would never harm LeAnn. 

So this reoccurred this weekend when Big Daddy Bob wanted to just take it easy after a hard day's work:  "Ah yeah, fuckin' nothin better than kickin ass in a workout, eatin some steak and takin a chew.  God damn," he said as he finished his dinner and threw his svelte body into the couch, which didn't become much deformed.  You could see it in his eyes.  At first it became a curious challenge: "Hm, I thought I left my tin there," then, pestilence "Dammit I fuckin' put my tin there." Finally, the dedication: "Where the fuck is my tin?  Goddammit."

The following ten minutes of 4-person desperation-searching turned up nothing.  It was time to seek shelter once more from the wrath of Big Bob.  His lithe muscles strained as he powerfully heaved the couch cushions and hefted 2, even 3 magazines at a time in a hopeless venture.  The fright in the air was palpable.  Daddy was angry, and no one wanted to be in the way, but no one knew what to do!

Please - put an end to this.  If you can help (honestly, stop stealing his tin, it's awful), we'd all appreciate it.  Especially LeAnn.  She can only take so much.