That is not the true bob, for although bob has super powers he can only kill himself through you. To some this would appear as murder, but to bob it's just renewal of his tag. For the waiting lines are in a way a sort of death, as the sheboon at the counter dries her nails, you serenely die in the endless waiting line that lasts longer than her nailpolish takes to dry. You lose track of time and yourself, surrounded by tormented souls yet alone as you feel their contempt, you shell up and assume the room is empty. That painful irony of being surrounded yet untethered a sort of interpersonal deprivation. Present bodies that for the most part are apathetic to your very existence and you entranced by that same dispair enter the placid acceptance. How could it not be seen as death itself?