Nothing makes me happier than food. Except repairing things... or guns. No...
"Betty." Let me start over. There are three things I can't stand. "Betty." One is- "Betty."
"Augh." I glare at Jethro, the second thing I can't stand. "What?!"
"I'm..." Jethro looks uncomfortable. His hands wring in front of his waist, and he is avoiding eye contact. His tool belt is catty-wompus, and he has missed a button on his jumpsuit. "I'm gonna go repair something... for my self-education bonus points."
"... Okay, so?" My comment about not standing Jethro was mean. He's my best friend, although sometimes he can be a little slow.
"Well... I don't want to mess the repair up."
"... That would be bad, yes." What is he trying to say? What does he want?
"It's a robot." I shut the computer sandwich and put it in the fridge. I don my cleanest looking coveralls and a pair of blacked-out goggles. As I grab my wrench he raises his hands defensively. "If you're not comfortable in this kind of situation-" I slap his forehead gently.
"Bro, don't you say another word." I shoulder my massive wrench. "I'm here for you."
I glare down at the mechanical masochist masterfully. It doesn't look damaged. Typical robot.
"Greeting's hu-mons." The robot rotates on it's wheels to face me and beeps towards my waist. "I did not know this was a two per-son job."
"Uh oh." Jethro is already uncomfortable. Time for me to step up. I aim my wrench at the robot.
"Mr. 1010110010 tac Bot Ver. 8.1, please explain your damage immediately."
"Yes, of course." The robot pops open the hatch on the front of it's torso, a patchwork of gears and doodads revealed. "As you can see, the dam-age is real, and not fake." I still see no damage, suspicions growing in my chest-
"I don't see any damage, Betty-"
"I know, Jethro! Jeeze!" I turn back to the robot. "I said 'explain' the damage."
"I am not sure exactly- Oh the pain." The robot sputters and jerks. "Such horr-i-ble dam-age to my..." A small arm raises in front of the robot's speaker/face, a little prompt card held aloft. "... Parts."
"Are those 'lines'?" I cut straight through this charade.
"Not at all." The robot lowers the card. "Space English is not my first lan-guage, I am..." A long, slow, arduous pause fills the space air. "... Al-ban-i-an."
"Okay, let's see what's wrong." I do a double take as Jethro steps towards the liar and kneels next to it's small form. "Where does it hurt?"
"Jethro!" I watch the robot as it leans back a little, presenting it's torso to Jethro.
"Thank you sir!" The robot sounds grateful. Maybe it is hurt. "As you can see, the damage is right there."
"Okay." Jethro reaches into the torso.
"Right there." The robot's voice sounds strange.
"Hm, I'm not feeling any-"
"Along the shaft."
"Augh!" Jethro recoils.
"All right, pervert!" I charge the robot and Jethro leaps back. I stand between them, wrench held like a space-baseball bat. "Stay back!"
"No, please!" The robot thrusts at me, it's innards twisting and vibrating. Ew. "I truly am damaged!"
"Keep your shaft to yourself!" I yell.
"No please, I am sorry." The robot stops moving and backs away a few step... er... wheel-rolls. "I am ashamed."
"You should be!" I scold the sicko.
"Watch 'him', Betty!" Jethro is safe behind me, his massive form ducking behind my wide stance, cocked-wrench presence... Ew.
"I could not cont-rol my robot lust, but please believe me when I say..." The robot turns around, revealing a loose wire and protruding panel. "... That I am damaged."
"Oh gosh." Jethro steps forward just a little. "That's a loose thermometric transmitter."
"Why didn't you just show us what was actually wrong!" Anger and concern mix in my voice. The robot does not respond right away.
"I'm sorry..." It drones. "... I am a sex addict." Aw man, I think I made a pun with the drone thing. Also, ew.
"Look come here, little guy." Jethro walks up to the robot and begins to reattach the wire and straighten the plate. "Next time just be honest."
"Thank you sir." The robot rolls back and forth on its wheels happily. "I am lucky you came to help me."
"Crazy robots." I shoulder my wrench again. This is going to make one strange repor-
"Now call be Mr. Rolls while you shove it up inside nice and tight."
"Safeword!" Jethro leaps away and I descend with my wrench.
"Back off!" I smash the head/speaker, ew, oil spraying, ew, all over me. Robots are perverts.
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