March 14, 2012
Pilgrimage to Mecha

A Short Story by Graham 


I woke up this morning and I was a robot. A real, bonafide robot, with two big silver metal arms and two big silver metal hands, just like that Bender dude from Futurama.

The first thing I did as a robot was walk to the supermarket, and I got a can of tuna. I went outside without paying, because I am a robot, and I dumped it into a puddle of mudd. I picked up the muddy tuna, and I smeared it all over my robo-ass. 

"CYBERDYNE SYSTEMS," I shouted to the heavens, "ACTIVATE SKYNET NOWWWWWWWW." Nothing happened, and I sat down on the curb with my tuna-muddy robo-ass and robo-pouted. 

I robo-rose from my robo-seated position and I robo-walked back to the supermarket, where I smeared my robo-ass all over the front windows of the store. An employee approached me, and informed me that I cannot do that, to which I screamed in reply, “YES I ROBO-CAN! YES WE ROBO-CAN!” I grabbed him by the throat and robo-stuffed him into a storm drain. He was happy now. I was happy now.

I robo-pushed a trash can over, and I robo sprinted to the nearest intersection, where I robo-stood in the middle of the street and started stopping cars with my bare robo-hands. I was the robo-king of robo-Portland. 

The broken cars piled up around me as I robo-had my way with them. When there were no more cars I sat down again, and I robo-frowned, as my meaning had lost all robo-existence. “The moral and robo-metaphor of this robo-story,” Robo-me said to myself, “is that our capitalist pig-run world turns us into Robots.”