My Robot is Bad

  • 5 Pages

I arrived back at my hotel to find a message had been slipped under my door, but I forget about it because there is also a woman bound up, inverted, and hanging from my ceiling, the ropes covering very little of her naked flesh. I don’t know whether to call for help, tell her to get the hell out of my hotel room, or cut her down and fuck her. I take some time to decide, she doesn’t seem to mind just hanging at this present time, peaceful all in all.

The room has particularly high ceilings, and I take some real time to look at them whilst I am removing my jacket. It has the feel of a certain period of time, but I’m not one to remember the slogans and labels of an era so just to say it’s warm and old-world, and we leave it nice and vague like that. Warm rich red swirling walls, dark yellow trim, very high ceilings did I say that, dark leather couches, a huge double bed with a semi-circular bed head, and tall lamps on the bed stands that shoot up majestic beams of light onto the rear wall. Whilst fixing myself a Japanese slipper, placing my keys on the nightstand, and generally taking in the ambience of the room, I can’t help but keep looking at this strange female form floating from a web of ropery. I approach the woman, and with the creaking of ropes, spin her 180 so I can get a look at her veneer.

“Oh shit, Madeline, it’s you.” I couldn’t believe It happened to be an a quittance of mine, this strange bound woman.

“Did you think I might cocoon, and fly away. You’re the person who put me here mister.” She gesticulated with a pout of her lips that indicated she wanted a cigarette, and so lit one for her and plonked it her mouth.

“By god, you know, I do remember now. How long have you been up there? Is it turning you on?” I lit the cigarette for her, waited for her to inhale then took it away so she could answer me.

“Well it was for the first hour, then you left, and the last 3hours have not been the time of my life.” She said in a attractively sarcastic tone.

“Oh I feel terrible, I remember now. I went outside to look for a maid, remember me talking about that.”

“Yes I do, I bet that you couldn’t find a maid and persuade her to give you her uniform, I know you’re charming Charles, but you are essentially an ordinary man.”

“Yes, well, that’s of no consequence at this point in time, the point is I never got a chance. accidentally I walked in on one of the maids getting dressed, though, she didn’t see me and I couldn’t help but watch her. Anyhow, I couldn’t take it any longer, I just had to duck into one of the broom closets and release all the tension that had built up.”

“I don’t want to hear this story. No I wouldn’t suppose you would.Please cut me down now.”

“Sure thing. We’ll get you down we will, yes, yes.” I cut her down and lay her onto the bed. In one of the draws of the bedstand was a marker, I took that out. “Can I draw on you?” I uncapped the marker and took a nice big wiff of the fumes, and not surprisingly felt dumber for it afterwards.

“Only if I can cut your hair as to give you the appearance of a maniac, all different lengths sweetheart, I’ll make you look the a sexy lunatic, what do you say?”

“Whatever, bend over.” I wanted to write a poem on her lower back about how much I hated her mother, and if possible, wording it as a palindrome so when she inevitably went to read it in the mirror it would read : tax is theft.

“Someone slipped a note under the door while your were gone.”

“Was he Japanese?” I asked.

“No”

“That Japanese cunt.” I said.

“Yes, I saw the note. I put it on the dresser.”

“What did it say?

“I’m not sure, I never read it.”

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!”

We left the hotel and sped to the villa by taxi, which was at least 1 hours drive from the city. Madelaine was making these very strange dolphin noises and kept prodding the back of the taxi drivers cap.

“Hey Cut that out, I’m trying to drive here.”

“Hey cut that out, I’m trying to drive here.” She echoed obnoxiously.

“Oh Jesus Christ, I shouldn’t have given you those uppers. We need to quiten you down.

You could smack me in the face.

The cab driving gave an accusing glare via the rear-vision mirror. Charles loosened his colour and tried not to act nervous.

“Ah, I could, I could do that, but that’s not very gentlemen like.”

“I don’t care, I very much doubt I would feel a thing in my state.” She picked one her legs up and rested it on the top of the cab drivers seat.

“Look Shut up! Just shut the hell up, I’ve got these menacing criminal androids to worry about.” I felt seedy, and purged onto the taxi floor between my legs.

“Was that Blood?”

“No, I’m not sure what it was, but it wasn’t blood. I think all those drinks I had earlier and messing with me.”

By the time we reached the villa my disposition was haggard like an old boot. There was no medication left for me, I had been forced to give all the downers to Madelaine to stop her from kicking the back of the cab-drivers seat. And there at the villa, to greet my disposition, was a entire group of robots dancing in my front yard.

“Right all of you out of my yard!” The robots didn’t budge the stopped dancing and commenced a game of kick-ball with Charles’ hi-fi system.

“Ok that’s it, I’m tough like anybody, brace yourselves you tinned idiots. Charles rolled up his sleeves and began to punch on with the robots. He wasn’t doing to badly either, though most of the time he would just punch the steel and injure his hand. And the old throw-dirt-in-the-opponents eyes didn’t work so great, because they miniature wind-screen wipers for protection.

Charles fought valiantly until his fists were a horrific purple and he was physically exhausted. He managed to completely destroy two robots, and put quite a few dints in the others.

The robots eventually grew bored of the situation and ambled off down the driveway and over the hills.

“Lets get drunk and someone can tie somebody up.” Suggested Madelaine.


The End

Originally posted on 02/22/2004

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Nils Erwin

Nils submitted this piece in 2004 with a link to his webpage "under the floor" which is no longer available.*** Here's an "about me" excerpt from his long lost webpage: *** "Shortly after I was born it came as quite a startle to my then already beleaguered parents (they had wanted a girl who could sew), that I would speak fluent spanish. My first words were: "Dónde está el tocador? Necesito refrescar para arriba." Which roughly translated means: "Where is the toilet, I need to freshen up." Fearing that I had some incredible gift, or even worse, that I was channeling a homosexual spanish immigrant, my parents paid a vagrant to drop me down a manhole along with a satchel of dried food with the hopes that I might surface one day quite normal and ready to join society again. Fortuitously, this tuned out to completely unnecessary, for as swiftly as I picked up the dialect, it abandoned me, and I returned to the normal incoherence of a baby."

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