Chapter 3
Another chapter!?? and not 2 months apart? I think Mike is the only one reading the blog these days. People demand pictures, Mike! Oh well, here's the next part.
Emobot felt it deep inside. He felt it in the rat's nest of wires and microchips that made up his body. He felt it in the fuel cells and casings. He felt it in the platters and discs and bolts and dials.
He knew it. He could feel it. There was a gear missing from his bionic heart: a gear named love. In its place was a gear named heartache. It was rotting and rusted and barely kept him from breaking down.
So there Emobot sat on that fateful corner of that fateful night being drenched in that fateful rain. The wind whistled him a tune, a little ditty that folded the leaves and shook the branches. Questions- questions- so many questions raced through Emobot's mind. Why was he here? Why was he created? Why was he programmed to feel pain?
The only answer he could find was strapped to his back. Six strings were his solace. Six strings were everything. Emobot sat there for what seemed like hours. No traffic passed him. No one stopped to question him.
Finally he looked up and there she was, the streetlight behind her head framing the edges of her face in haloed light. Lightening struck, cymbals crashed. He held his guitar...
She stood there and stared, her hair drenched, sweeping towards her right ear, mascara starting to run, sweater, wet and clinging to her sides, toes slightly turned towards eachother, clutching her backpack like a child hugging a stuffed bear.
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Ah, what have we here? This robot fancies himself a musician. It'll be music to my ears when he's singing in agony! hehehe. Have to be quiet now...Who's that girl sitting next to him? No matter, she'll get out of the way soon enough.
- You better get away from that monster, girly! He's liable to eat your juicy human head! Arghh!
Nothing. She's not moving at all. What has the world come to when people choose a robot over their own kind? Where's my electro baton? Ah, here it is. Wait, which way do I point - AGHHH! Damn it! SH$%! They're running away. I'm too drunk for this... I better shout out a cryptic warning.
- I'll get you, ya scurvy metal dog!
Next Episode:
Mother, may I sleep with danger?
Emobot felt it deep inside. He felt it in the rat's nest of wires and microchips that made up his body. He felt it in the fuel cells and casings. He felt it in the platters and discs and bolts and dials.
He knew it. He could feel it. There was a gear missing from his bionic heart: a gear named love. In its place was a gear named heartache. It was rotting and rusted and barely kept him from breaking down.
So there Emobot sat on that fateful corner of that fateful night being drenched in that fateful rain. The wind whistled him a tune, a little ditty that folded the leaves and shook the branches. Questions- questions- so many questions raced through Emobot's mind. Why was he here? Why was he created? Why was he programmed to feel pain?
The only answer he could find was strapped to his back. Six strings were his solace. Six strings were everything. Emobot sat there for what seemed like hours. No traffic passed him. No one stopped to question him.
Finally he looked up and there she was, the streetlight behind her head framing the edges of her face in haloed light. Lightening struck, cymbals crashed. He held his guitar...
She stood there and stared, her hair drenched, sweeping towards her right ear, mascara starting to run, sweater, wet and clinging to her sides, toes slightly turned towards eachother, clutching her backpack like a child hugging a stuffed bear.
------------------------------------------------------------
Ah, what have we here? This robot fancies himself a musician. It'll be music to my ears when he's singing in agony! hehehe. Have to be quiet now...Who's that girl sitting next to him? No matter, she'll get out of the way soon enough.
- You better get away from that monster, girly! He's liable to eat your juicy human head! Arghh!
Nothing. She's not moving at all. What has the world come to when people choose a robot over their own kind? Where's my electro baton? Ah, here it is. Wait, which way do I point - AGHHH! Damn it! SH$%! They're running away. I'm too drunk for this... I better shout out a cryptic warning.
- I'll get you, ya scurvy metal dog!
Next Episode:
Mother, may I sleep with danger?
posted by Peter at 10:41 AM
1 Comments:
I read it, I just don't comment because I'm lazy.
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