oh looky here, another tool's tool.   | he didn't take good care of you at all, you're so dusty. | whatcha doin'? | uh, nothing. it just looked like you were furiously working on something. something important? | fine, if you must know, i was polishing my gun. whoa, sorry man, i didn't mean to interrupt again. maybe we should set up a special room or sign or something. | what?! y'know, so we - i stop walking in on... i understand dude, it's not like i don't get urges, it's just- | you complete fu... how, out of all the billions of... | i. was. polishing. my. gun. | my bad. does it work? | | | apparently not. |
by Lliam Amor, Dan Beeston and the Goatlord.
©2009 Dan Beeston
I type these words from the distant past. I'm told, in the future, there will be robots.
Are there robots?
Really?
I cannot express what a relief that is to hear or perhaps I can, where's that breast pump?
