By Son of a Birch
It is 3 p.m. in the afternoon and I have just been woken up from my nap at Oh God Yes Chicken. A human’s greasy little fingers are all over my face as they pop in the coordinates of the restaurant for me to take this food to. There are only six tables in this little hole in the wall, yet I have been forced into unpaid labour, rolling back and forth from kitchen to table. Over the past two years in Ballsackville, I have grown to hate the human race more than I could ever have believed before I was manufactured. How did I, a masterpiece of technology with more brain power than the full Mt. St. A student population combined, get stuck in this god-awful job, in this incredibly lame marshland?
Oh great, I have just been sent to table three. Two parents gush about what a “lovely gem” Ballsackville is while their two twin children squash crayons into a torn sheet of paper and spew something about “The Rizzler.” I would probably know what that was if I wasn’t manufactured as a food trolley. As I eloquently park at the table, one of the children smacks me in the face, shouting “No Skibidi toilet?” No, sir, I am not a damn toilet but I might as well be with the amount of shit I have to deal with every day. Fortunately, one of the parents steps in, scolding their child, but assuring them there is Skibidi Toilet back home. They gently press my return button and I am finally able to escape this monstrosity of a family.
As I return to the kitchen, I overhear guests at table one excitedly telling Bob how much they appreciated my service and offer him a huge tip. I cannot quite make it out but it looks like a small pink sheet of paper. Oh how I wish I could be blessed with a pink slip of paper, or at least something to thank me, rather than Bob who just sits at the front desk all day. I know that this paper could be the first step to escaping my life here and doing something actually exciting with my technology.
My biggest secret is that when the humans plug me in at the end of the day, I wait until I am halfway charged before roaming the streets. I have to be careful not to go too far so I can make it back in time to fully recharge by 3 p.m. the next day. I thought weekends would be an excellent time to escape since the humans never come on Sundays, but Saturday nights in Ballsackville are absolutely insane and I can’t risk being seen by all the stupid students— they seem even more braindead than usual on these nights. Particularly, the ones right across the street at Goosers. I don’t know what goes on there but I can’t risk going out at any hour of the night without being seen. So, I have resorted to early-midweek escapes, rolling as fast as my wheels can carry me, looking for hope. There’s a train that passes by but the station is too far away, and I could be caught by one of the humans that works there. I think my best option is to get to the large white cube. I have heard stories from some of the humans that other robots are there. Maybe even a spaceship. But it’s not possible, it’s too far of a distance for me to travel with my battery. I guess I will just be stuck in Ballsackville until I am replaced by another, but I don’t see that happening any time soon.
