Actually, his mom and dad named him Pete......they didn't know their son was really Bob. In fact, neither did Pete.
One morning, Bob (Pete) clubbed his sister to death and ran off with her husband. That earned him some bad karma.
Bob didn't really know anything about karma, because it hadn't been invented yet.
He died a senile old cave dweller, with some pretty bad karma.
Bob returned to the world as his sister's second great
granddaughter named Delilah. No one knew any better,
of course, so they kept calling her Delilah instead of Bob.
Delilah was promiscuous and vain. One day, lonely and
bored with no admiring men around, she decided to
take revenge for her great grandmother's murder,
Pete's (Bob's) sister. Delilah (Bob) skewered Pete's
(Bob's) great grandson with her sword and threw his body into a tar pit. So, Bob killed his great grandson for killing his great grandmother, that is, his sister.
That's a lot of bad karma, and a bit confusing.
Now, Bob as Delilah still didn't know anything about karma, or that he was really god and needed to get a handle on all of this karma business and learn to enjoy his divinity.
Now, Bob as Delilah still didn't know anything about karma, or that he was really god and needed to get a handle on all of this karma business and learn to enjoy his divinity.
On and on these acts of mischief and mistakes and reckless lifestyles went for thousands of reincarnations. Bob just didn't understand that he needed to start dealing with all of that bad karma. He needed to start learning about the profound secret truths of the universe so he could start paying off his karmic debt and move toward enlightenment and bliss, nirvana, and be absorbed into the all-that-is, that universal energy where he would forget he was ever Bob and just enjoy not being a particular anyone.
Finally, someone invented reincarnation and Bob could now start dealing with all of those bad things he'd been doing and thinking millenia ago.
Problem is, Bob started returning as countless little animals, many of them quite furry and cute, but none of them really smart enough to make much progress as a spiritual seeker.
It's unfortunate that he cursed under his breath at all of the little kids who ran by and threw mud pies at him as he sat motionless in the dirt. So, just more bad karma for Bob.
Finally, Bob died again -- a dusty, skinny old man that smelled very, very bad.
Bob continued to live and die, live and die. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't keep from thinking or doing something bad. So he lived and died, lived and died, unable to shake off his bad karma.
Then, Bob returned as a fly.
Bob was now in a real fix. You see, flys don't really care about karma, and Bob was not a particularly good fly either. He avoided dog droppings and garbage and instead hung out at picnics licking up sweet ice tea and chocolate cake. No good works for Bob now, no deep
and cosmic thoughts, no meditation, seeking truth, enlightenment, bliss.
Understandably, Bob as a fly did not make the best of his time, spiritually speaking.
Life was just an endless buzzing about at birthday parties and the occasional wedding reception at the beach, until . . . . . .
And so it was, Bob died yet again, and because of the weight of all that bad karma on his little wings and his inability to remove any karmic debt as a fly, Bob was destined to remain some kind of multilegged something-or-other for all eternity.
