Story fragment containing snark and a robot as a woman quits her job.
|“So say something.”
“Good. Now say nothing.”
“Perfect. Now stand on your head.”
Dr. Sbatso stood on his head.
“Now sing Popeye the Sailor Man.”
Dr. Sbatso sang a single tone in a steady rhythm. “I’m Popeye the sailor man. I’m Popeye the sailor man. I’m strong to the finish ‘cause I eat my spinach, I’m Popeye the sailor man. Toot toot.”
I presented the robot to the gaping board members. “He’s all yours.”
If they had thought for a moment they probably would have called for Security as I swept past them and made for the door, but they were distracted at that moment by the mechanical man’s clicking of his heels together, particularly as he was still standing on his head. Dr. Sbatso was a jolly metal soul.
I pushed through the lab’s double doors, not glancing back even once. (No need, as I could see them in the reflection of the glass doors. They were too befuddled to stop me.) I made sure to make a mess as I left, knocking beakers of the counters, banging pots on the floors, stuff like that there. I kept walking, of course, because I knew eventually they would return to their senses and come after me, but in the meantime I took satisfaction where I could. Nothing like a little senseless destruction to sate the revenge-monster within oneself.
I left the building quickly but unhurriedly, jumping into the taxi that I had enlisted to wait for me out front. “Drive me away,” I told him.
“You are an unattractive, nagging moron of a lady, and if I never see you again it will be too soon.” He looked at me expectantly.
“Nice try,” I said. “Now drive the car away from here.”
He shrugged and put the vehicle’s engine into drive. We taxied away from the Lewison & Galviner Institute of Mechanics & Physics.