“Don't push my
buttons.”
Super Mario*
#quote
Tomorrow
Jessica's coming over so that'll be fun. Anyway onto the flash
fiction!
Spare
Stanley
Mad scientist
Kevin loved to build robots. He built ones large and small. He
programmed with intelligence so that they could fulfill their tasks
no matter how mundane or extreme. Kevin was not the mad scientist who
tried to take over the world, but rather a smart rich guy with too
much time on his hands and crazy in his head. He noticed however that
while building his elaborate robots he tended to get spare parts left
over. He built a robot he named Spare Stanley with these parts for fun and
put it among his robots.
Spare Stanley
didn't have any intended function. He moved awkwardly along the
ground with wheels of various mismatched sizes. He spoke not with
high quality speakers, but rather left over speakers from a radio the
doctor gutted for its other parts. Most of the doctor's machines
possessed a firm, strong body in a perfect geometric shape like a
square or octagon to contain their parts. Stanley's outer shell
covered him like an awkward banged in helmet, with parts coming out
where they needed to like the speaker. The two cameras he needed to
see jutted out of the top at an angle like eyes and he needed to roll
up to whatever he looked at to get a good view. The solar panels that
fed him energy came out from the back of the helmet like hair.
Stanley really
didn't have much of a function since he only served to use up spare
parts and give the mad scientist something to do for an afternoon.
Kevin just let him roll around the lair and vaguely assigned him to
surveillance without telling him where. The other robots shunned
Stanley because of what he was. Eventually Stanley spent his time
charging, watching TV and reading over the doctor's shoulder.
Years past, and
the doctor looked at Stanley who's wheels started to wear.
“Even the
spare parts are starting to wear,” the scientist said. The mad
scientist went over to Stanley to pick him up and prepared to
disassemble the robot. “I kinda liked you too. Sorry little guy.
When I wipe your memory I'll give you a good next life.”
Stanley
replied, “One evening three officers were called to a crime scene
where the body had mysterious marks all over it. On closer
examination they saw they were deep cuts from a knife. Equations.
What could they mean?”
Kevin looked at
Stanley and said puzzled, “Excuse me?”
Stanley
explained, “Doctor, this is the start to one of my stories. After
watching television and reading over your shoulder for so long I've
decided that my function should be a storyteller. That is if you'll
permit me Sir.”
Kevin smiled
and put down Stanley. “Alright, I'll listen to your stories. What
happens next?”
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