Whimsical Happenings: A Collection of Short Stories

Manufactured Details

Prompt: Class assignment, something with robots. I think this is also something with the last prompt and I wrote two responses or something.

Portland, Oregon sucked. It was raining all the time and the constant drip drip drip got into my circuitry and was slowly frying my wires. When my software had started to get all screwed up by the rain, I was demoted to a cleaning unit. I was currently employed at a pet shop. I wasn't any good as a household unit anymore, but it was all temporary. Just until I got some parts and repaired myself. Then I'd be all good and new.

    One of the dogs had taken a dump in its cage and was currently rolling around. Its gold furry coat was now a matted mess of shit stained brown clumps. The dog started to wag its tail as soon as I opened its cage.

    "Hello you stupid fuck-fuck-fucker," I said.

My word processor was wearing out faster than I liked. I'd have to see if the recycle pit had any spare ones. The recycle pit was where old units were broken down. It was a little disconcerting to have someone else's' parts in your system but at least it stopped me from completely malfunctioning. At least my parts weren't being scavenged.

    That was one big thing that sucked about being an old model unit. When parts started failing, there was nowhere to get new ones. One had to make do with second hand, unreliable, junk pieces from the pits. The fabrication skin on my hands and arms was wearing out. The cats liked trying to eat the wiring that snaked in and out of the flesh colored fabrication. Along with my word processor, other functions were wearing out. My memory chip had started to malfunction somewhat, but it was all temporary. Just until I could get some new parts. I'd be good news.

    The dog wagged its tail happily, as I dragged it to the shower door in the back.

    The bell above the door rang as Maran, the owner walked in. "Unit 839," she called. "Where are you?"

    "One moment-just a minute-wait," I yelled. Damn word processor. I wiped the worst of the dog shit off my exposed gears.

    "What happened there?" Maran demanded the moment I stepped into her field of vision. She was glaring at the shit in the dog's kennel as if its mere existence had offended her.

    "The dog took-took-took a dump," I replied.

    Maran looked unimpressed. "I suggest that you clean it up Unit, unless you want me to recycle you."

    "Aye aye captain-yes sir-no sir," I replied. I don't' think Maran took any notice of what I said anymore. I cleaned up the dog cage while Maran got the shop ready for the day.

     I didn't really mind Maran to much. She was always threatening to have me recycled, but there was no way she'd actually do it. That didn't mean that I wanted to stay here working for Maran until she did decide to one day scrap me.

    I have some big plans. I'm gonna travel to somewhere else. Once I get my word processor replaced and I find someone who can repair my memory chip. These tiny malfunctions were only temporary. When I got new parts, I'd be good and new.

    "Unit 839," Maran said, interrupting my mental planning. "Where is the dog?"

    "Dog?" I asked. "What dog?" The cage I was cleaning was empty. I didn't know what Maran wanted with a dog. This cage was still too dirty for Maran to be thinking about getting a dog.

    "The dog that took the dump, Unit," Maran replied. "Where is that dog?"

    Dump. Dog. Kennel. Shower. My circuitry finally made the connection. Sort of. Clearly, my memory chip was starting to have a few more problems.

    "Shower," I replied. "Had to clean the dump-dumb-dog cage."

    "We don't have a shower," Maran replied. "Remember, I got rid of it last year."

    "Of course you did-did-didn't," I scoffed. Maran turned on her heels and click-clacked all the way to the back of the pet shop.

    "Unit!" Maran yelled. "Get back here now!"

    I followed Maran's shout until I found her at the back door. "What?" I asked. She looked really angry and I couldn't remember why.

    "You let to dog out the back door," Maran replied. Her voice was tight and irritated sounding. Or her tone might be happy sounding. I haven't been too good at recognizing tones.

    "The dog?" I asked. I didn't remember a dog. I knew I had to clean the cage. Maybe there was going to be a new dog arriving soon.

    "That is it," Maran snapped. She stormed away. Her heels click-clacked on the floor. I stared out the door. I didn't know why Maran wanted a dog so badly. I hoped she remembered that she owned a pet store and could just take a dog home with her. There was a pretty gold one that had soft fur.

    I don't remember how long I looked out the door. There was a tap on my shoulder. A man in a blue jumpsuit was standing there.

    "Unit 839," the man said. "We're here to take you to recycling."

    "Oh good," I replied. The man looked surprised but didn't say anything else. I followed them to their recycling truck and stepped in the back. I'd be able to get my word processor replaced and get my memory chip fixed. The back of the truck started to close.

Once I got to the recycling pit, I'd be all good and new.