Whenever I go to the ocean I love to play Beach Scavenger Hunt. Though I must admit it’s a lot more fun playing in New York. Our list in the Bahamas included Cigarette butts, rubbers, sea shells—nothing out of the ordinary. But when I play in New York, my Scavenger Hunt list is like: Box of Soiled Medical Supplies, Used Hyperdermic Needles, Crack vial, tampon, Gold tooth, 3 eyed fish, sunken mafia guys wearing lead shoes . . .  

So our vacation to the Bahamas would not be complete if we didn’t do our part to contribute to the local economy in the way of buying bootleg t-shirts and handmade straw hats. You’ve already seen from Part 3, the price of Candy versus a Jammy Wrap. But the real deals are in the open air sections where the mom-and-pop operations are. But first I had to employ the horse blinders on Mrs. P. I love my bim but she can not stay FOCUSED! Do you have to go into EVERY store?! You’d figure there’d be at least ONE that didn’t interest her.

This is the most bootleg souvenir ever! Since when does Sand in a Bowl need to cost 90 units! I'd rather get the infamous "snow shaker."

Man, times are a changin’. We go this little tent because Mrs. P sees the most adorable place mats. Please, I’ll take my old Captain America place mats over some stupid straw ones any day.  But now these vendors are all modern- like. This lady is selling straw hats, dolls, and mouse pads! And before she braids your hair, she shoes you a computer generated simulation of how you will look! I was like DAAAAAAMN! You work out of a tent but support international e-commerce?  

Hog poses with the Straw Hat Lady. She braids a mean head of hair, plus she taught Hog a thing or two about CGI scripting on web pages.

Hog helps direct traffic at the Outdoor Mall. Or is he dancing to YMCA?

But then the worst thing happened. Worse than the time I peed myself on the airplane. Worse than the time we found out our local ice cream truck driver was selling weed in the vanilla ice cream cones. Poor Mrs. P’s laxatives kicked in while we were at the Bootleg Bahamas Mall. I felt so bad for her. Her 2^nd most favorite past-time was being spoiled by the squirts. (Her #1 favorite past-time is of course nagging me.)

So we went back to the Resort a bit earlier than planned. Aw, that’s too bad. We couldn’t spend the ENTIRE day shopping. Now STOP THAT! I know what you’re thinking! It’s a Hog-spiracy! That HogWild slipped some S.C.’s (Tish Crackers) in her food. That the Hog would do something so underhanded, so evil, so very nefariously reprehensibly wicked as to give Mrs. P hot caramel so we would have to leave early. I DENY DENY DENY all charges! I can’t believe you’d even entertain such a thought. Bad you! BAD you!  

So we went back and watched a little television, but nothing was on. So I’m scanning the channels. Casually identifying possibly interesting shows with my usual priority list: boobies, sports, cartoons. Thus making the most desirable program: the Adult Japanese Anime, “Suzi Suzuki and her Over- Developed Girls Softball Team.” But ain’t tish on! Until I stumble over some serious bulltish! On ESPN2 (where else?) they’re actually broadcasting a Magic Tournament! LOSERS! For those who don’t know, Magic is this incredibly dorky, role-playing card game like Dungeons and Dragons. Look, if you want to play that, fine. I realize that you were probably ostracized from organized sports due to your sloppy corpulence and facial complexion that mirrors a porcupine with bad acne. But that doesn’t mean they have to waste valuable Cable channels with it! Seriously, I have no respect for ESPN 2. Clearly, they’ve run out of sports to show. Since when is a CARD GAME a sport? I’d consider Contact Dominoes a “sport” before a card game. What’s next, World Championship Computer Solitaire? Totally Lame-o. Ladies Rollerblading is a sport before Magic. Hell, SOCCER is a sport before Magic! But for real, during their broadcast of the International Magic Tournament in New York City, they actually showed instant replays! How the hell ya gonna show an instant replay for a card game! I swear to JEHOVAH and all his witnesses, the nub announcer was like, “And here is the turning point of the match, Bruce Lardass flips over the Enchanted Elf Card to reveal 30 bonus endurance points, thus clobbering his opponent’s chance of issuing a freeze-spell with his Wizard.” LOOOOOOOOZERZ! Now, I’m not saying I’m not a loser. Because I can sit in front of my computer for weeks at a time. I actually make my friends into custom players for my Playstation sports games. Yes, I am loser. I still love Linda Carter for her role as Wonderwoman. I used to “practice” to Dafney on Scooby Doo. I can name all 7 layers of the OSI networking model. Yes, I am a loser. BUT! At least I know not to embarrass my entire family participating in a dweeby role playing card game on National TV where the Grand Prize is a Year’s Supply of Jolt Cola and Anti-Zit Motion Lotion.  

Anyhoo, the best part of the Bahamas (and for me, any vacation) is the food. I was eating non-stop. Some fish called Mahi-Mahi, steak, bbq chicken, salads, cheese cake. I love me some Eats! Now you know my plan. I WANT to become a major fat ass. The thing is, I can’t do it until I’m rich. Because broke and fat is Welfare Ghetto/Trailer Park Bootleg. But RICH and fat is to be a KING! Were not all the great Kings portly? Of course they were. It’s a sign that you’re so wealthy, that you don’t have to move. You pay people to do everything for you. Plus it makes you more likable. Because when you’ve got mad bacon bits, normally people are jealous. But if you’re also obese, they automatically assume you to be affable and jolly. “Oh he’s a GOOD King, he’s fat and jolly! So what if his Crown was made from the melted gold teeth of our grandparents—he’s so--- Jolly!" Bill Gates, if you’re listening, fatten up a bit. It will help your image. But I can’t become super fat until I’m super rich. That’s why I’m in such a hurry to make the units. That’s why you must click on those banners! Do you want your Hoggy Hog to become a big bloated POOR pig? No! Help me become a big, bloated RICH pig! Then I can invite you over to my Castle for ribs and shish-ke-bob!  

Hog suckles on a hairy Kiwi. Hog gets Homo Erotic.

Hog is most happy when eating or sliding in the playground. 

But there’s a reason I didn’t blow up like Tootie on The Facts of Life, I was a Butt Bulimic. That’s right. I was vomiting from my ass every 2 seconds. I had the worst squirts down there. I don’t know if it was something in the water or what, but I had seriously nizASTY caramel. It was making me all dehydrated too. So I was like, “Must have more chocolate mousse!”  

Besides the eating, the beach is always a good reason to go to the Bahamas. But be ready for some heat. I got so much sun, I looked like a burnt penis. All purple and red . . . capillaries ready to burst . . . you get the idea. Damn it was hot. My chest hairs became a forest fire! My nipples looked like melted candles. Ooh that would actually be kinda cool. A bim with nipples like scented candles. Like Butterscotch or something. Yummy!  

Ya know, it’s not ‘til you go to the beach that your realize how nasty your tish is. During the winter you try to avoid the mirror in the bathroom. Checkin' yourself out from the neck up only. Then when you get on the beach you suddenly packin’ an extra roll. Asking questions like, “When did those hairs get there?” That’s how I am. I was like, “Damn, when that tropical rainforest start growing in my armpit?” And then you start inspecting even more carefully. I was in utter consternation when I made THIS realization: “My nipples were never cross-eyed before!” But alas, they were. No wonder I’m a slow reader!

Coming sooner than you even want it, Part 5 of Hog’s Trip to the Bahamas: Bims on a "Get-A-Man Mission," and the Bootleg Talent Show.  

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