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Now seemed as good a time as any to go and find out what that ominous message was all about. I crawled over to
the dresser; it seemed like the right thing to do. The dresser itself was simply magnificent. It had a overabundance
of draws, compartments and shelves, all made from the finest of dark oak, clearly the work of a master craftsman.
It even had some secret draws, and the type that one had to pull out in series for them to open, It was quite likely
that some of the draws and compartments had never been opened before and remained the secret of the original craftsman.
The apparently ominous message; was a note from the front desk: Telephone message: From: Grandmaster of Soapy Detergents,
C. J. Ivanson: Call back at: 9822 4535.
All of a sudden I felt a strangeness is the left side of face the could not be accounted for, it made me nervous.
I sat down on the bed beside the phone.
"It's a message to call a grandmaster of soapy detergents C.J. Ivanson." I said to Madelaine.
"That's a most peculiar title. Perhaps it's the front desk playing games, they looked like trouble if you
ask me." She said I dialed the number on the message, and again, admired the extremely high ceilings while
waiting out the phone rings.
"Hello? Grandmaster of soapy detergents C.J Ivanson speaking." A purely robotic voice buffled its way
through the receiver.
"What on earth? Is this a recording?"
"This is not a recording Charles, it's me, don't you know who I am?" The robotic voice was eerily calm.
"No I haven't any idea who you are, what do you want."
"Actually that would make sense. I am a robot Charles. You're Robot. You will start the designs for me and
my series in about 5 years. You programmed us so well Charles, just recently we were able to construct a fully-functional
time-machine, and here we are. And as far as want we want, Nothing really. We just wanted to let you know we're
burglarizing your house as we speak.
(crashing noises in background.)
"You're burglarizing my house? You bastards.
"You don't have very much taste Charles, it's mostly garbage, but we'll see what we can do. We just wanted
to piss you off, then we'll pawn all your junk and buy oranges, they're very hard to get back in 5060 you know."
"Listen here you, I'd clear off from there if I was you I'm calling the police, you understand?"
"Go ahead. We have a very talented legal team Charles,in all likely hood they could pin this on you, considering
you're the one who made us."
"You fuckheads." Charles slammed the phone down.
"We have to leave immediately, get dressed."
She wormed around on the bed clearly in no great hurry to go anywhere. Charles crept up behind her and pushed her
off the bed. Far from achieving the desired result, she began to laugh uncontrollably, her naked body curled and
uncurled in a spasmic rhythm. We she finally did get dressed she was stunning. She wore a black evening dress,
with a generous cut on the right leg, showcasing her stunning long tanned legs.
"I feel light headed; I think I should lie down."
"No, NO, we have to press on. Here take one of these." Charles gave her a hand full of uppers which he
had procured from a young lad who worked for a drug company.
Why do you have to be so impetuous Charles?"
Damned Robots have robbed the house!"
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