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Paperback Writer

A well accomplished writer, P.S. had so many stories to tell, we had to give him his own space. Enjoy this new style of blog meets fiction!

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Robbie

Robbie studied his metallic face in the mirror. He looked intently at the cold unemotional face staring back at him.

‘I am such a fine looking robot,’ he thought, ‘surely the finest the world has ever seen.’

He trundled to a black lacquered book case and gazed at the books. His eyes fell on an Isaac Asimov anthology.

‘I love it when I read his stories,’ he thought. 'What an amazing imagination Asimov had.'

He spun about and trundled along the grey carpet of the large apartment overlooking the Thames River and gazed out of the window.

‘Oh, how I long to be outside,’ he thought to himself. 'Whatever would people make of me? I am sure they have never seen a robot such as me before.'

He trundled back along the grey carpet and came to a coffee table positioned in the middle of the room. He looked at the table and analyzed the pictures that were sat upon it in bright silver frames.

His focused on the image of a man and a woman in their early forties, arm in arm, in front of a large statue of a horse.

‘They have taught me well, my creators,’ he thought. ‘I must protect and obey them always.’

Then he focused his attention to the picture next to it. This picture contained an image of a young boy with bright red hair and a plethora of freckles.

‘What a goofy looking creature he is,’ Robbie considered.

He then trundled his way back over to the window, and gazed out of it again.

“I cannot wait to start exterminating people. The time is surely close,” he uttered out loud in a cold mechanical voice.

At that moment a door opened suddenly and a tall strawberry-blonde lady came into the room.

Robbie turned and looked at the face of her; it was the same one as the photograph.

Robbie began to move towards her…

“I have made you fishsticks and chips for tea, luv,” she said, studying Robbie.

Her pretty face morphed into an enormous smile.

“Boy, you have that robot trundle movement down pat… It is perfect!”

She made her way over to her son.

“Then afterwards, your dad and I will go with you and watch on as you go trick and treating outside.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Robbie said, as he pulled the silver painted cardboard box from his head. “You are the best… and I am sure everyone is going to love this wicked robot costume you and Dad made for me. Boy, I simply love Halloween. I wonder how much candy I am going to get this year!”

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