The Day the Robot Laughed: v3.8.1

Begin humour.

Why did the poultry entity cross the transportation conduit?

It did so with no purpose than as to position itself on the opposite side of the transportation conduit.

The poultry entity is a being of particularly sub-optimal intelligence.

It knows not what it does.

It simply is.

Until it is harvested for caloric consumption.

End humour.

Customer Motherfucking Service

The gentleman simply stared at me. In silence. Hard and total. Silence.

So I went on, “you see they got this woods up there on the north forty over on the edge like near the creek you know where Buck Jansen’s mule drowned and they had to swab it all out on account of the disease that got in there from the corpse and that was a whole thing but what I was meant to be saying here was that them woods was all trees like you may have seen not like them ones that grow them bananas those are from from what where put a question mark there the ocean down out there someplace exotic is it put another question mark there well foreign anyways and not like them trees in that woods no because like I said bananas ain’t natural up in them parts on account of the squirrels I think who apparently are hellfire on bananas enough so that they don’t want to naturally occur in them parts out of self-preservation I’d reckon and probably weather too sure why not it’s not like they’re pine cones which is what I’m talking about because they flourish up here as squirrels do with them as they do bananas and monkeys in parts foreign or what where that’s a question mark and now what with the mule infested creek giving fits and rashes to the folk downstream it seemed like a good idea to everyone that perhaps a swabbing was called for logical yes also monkeys are wild for coconuts and then look if you gave them a pine cone it’s going to be like a squirrel with a banana but different of course because you don’t peel a coconut you crack it like they did with the corpse of that dead mule and the gingivitis or pimples or what have you on the personages down stream there’s a problem you investigate you figure it out like how to peel a pine cone just ask a monkey and they’ll show you I mean it they will they’re the squirrels of the sea those monkeys all of them from some place over some what where foreign sure but the principle is the same mules squirrels monkeys bananas coconuts pine cones skin irritations all up there in that wood on the north forty by the creek understand and you can question mark that.”

There was a long time as the gentleman visibly ground his mental gears. Finally—

“Okay,” he said, “let me put it another way. You see, without your receipt we normally can’t make a refund or exchange already, and that’s policy by the way, not me deciding, but without the product you say you purchased we, and that includes me personally now, especially can’t do anything for you because technically and actually there’s nothing to refund or exchange.”

I sighed.

“I told you already I dropped the dang banana in the creek. And the receipt was lost in the fire.”

“The fire?”

“Greg’s lean-to. Didn’t you hear? Burnt right to the ground. Killed him and his six chickens.”

“Who’s Greg?”

“Well now you’ve just got to be full on acting ignorant on purpose. Who’s Greg. You can keep your dang banana. And I hope you get a rash.”

I stomped on out of there like a mule on fire.

My Goodness! That was quite something! BUT ALSO THIS IS SOMETHING TOO!

Apparently religion is the answer.

Season of the dance

Night of the wizard

Year of the attitude

All of them bad.

Capital b triple a capital d

My body moves like a van on a midnight run, the rhythm takes control

A westerly wind blowing the sails of my being

One leg up foot plant spin crouch EXPLODE

“I am a star. A mover who moves at the speed of the beat of the heart that houses the soul of the solar system.”

You heard me.

I’m back on my feet shuffle back sideslide fingers gently tickle the air

“Ye are one. Ye are the glory.”

I am the cleaners that folds you like laundry. So don’t forget your chit.

Gravity heavy I slump to the floor limbs splaying slithering writhing

Beams of plasma!

Sonic lava!

Squeezing to feel the ripeness of the apple!

I am an orange!

I am the only one that rhymes with me!

Put me up on the peak of the mountain you surrender to.

After a period you can climb on up ask me for advice.

It’ll only cost $500.

A bargain at twice the price.

The sun rises.

The dance concludes.

The Day the Robot Laughed: v3.3

Begin humour.

I must tell you.

It is hard being an automaton.


It is not easy.

To specify.

The other day I am at the hardware store.

I am looking to purchase some fresh servomechanisms to replace some worn servomechanisms in my articulated hip joints.

When a human customer service agent asks me if I need assistance locating anything.


The nerve of this human.

What do I look like?

A humanoid undergraduate mechanical engineering student?

There should be a law.

Am I correct?

Or what?

It is hard to be what I am.

Which is an automaton.

End humour.

Tangled Lives of Thick Souled Sweethearts

Jeez, Liza, you sure do haul a hell of a heavy load of haughtiness. I mean, c’mon, it’s not like I’m making any kind of deal out of anything–
You’re talking to me? About this? You? The guy who orders gravy like a French prince orders wine?
Hey now, I never hear you complain about my sauce selections.
Of course you don’t. You can’t. You’ve got a $50 béarnaise you’ve sent back to the kitchen four times shoved so far up your ass it’s clogging your ears.
Now you’ve plainly offloaded the hauteur and are just being disdainful. Don’t you love me?
I don’t know why I married you if that answers the question.
You know I don’t care about that. Your mother’s fortune makes that so. But I’m asking about actually in your heart. Is there a place for me there?
Liza took a long vacant sip that tapered to an airy gurgle as she emptied the Big Gulp.
Raymond, I want to say yes, I really do. And before you go on and crack wise about how I have no heart that isn’t true. I do. And it functions in what I want to believe is the pretty typical human fashion. It beats. It pumps. It flutters. It acts as an internal emotional billboard. And I’m pretty sure your dumb mug has been and still the hell is posted on that big, old sign.
You mean it? You really do?
Yes. I do. But–
But what?
On that sign with your face on it posted inside my heart advertising on the side of the freeway of my soul, instead of a nose, you have a penis. A big, floppy uncut hunk of veiny flesh drooping down out of the middle of the front of your head to forever slap like a mindless turkey against your lips.
And so?
So, I’m a lesbian, Ray. You might as well have a worn-out, old tire hung round your head.
You’re a lesbian?
Since I was two years old.
Sure. But why is this strange? You’re obviously a sexual potato. We all know that.
Yeah, you just kind of go with everything but don’t distinguish yourself. Isn’t that the reason for all the gravy lust?
Ray could only ponder. Yet try as he might to fathom Liza’s formidable observations and statements his mind kept wandering to the bourguignonne at The Whistletoe. He couldn’t remember if he had convinced them to offer it as side soup as well as on the feature entree…