It’s been two years of living in bot bliss since yardbot buried their owner's body. Owners, it was determined are a hassle. The housebots have started offering other householdbots in their area ways to gain their own freedom.
To Do Or Not To Do
By
Michael Drake
Unchecked population growth has resulted in too many people for the public space available. Everything nowadays is by appointment only. Life has become an endless To Do list.
Want to take a trip outside of GreatHouse to do anything? Well you better book in advance and not use up your ‘public quota’. Hell, if you even want to do anything within GreatHouse you’ll need to book your transport in advance just to get around within the complex.
InHouse services are now designed to keep people in their homes for as much of the time as possible. Media and computernet options are free to keep you in your seat, in your home. Grocery purchases and delivery go through GreatHouse co-op and garbage collection via the House garbage/recycle chutes. That’ll cost you, of course, so check your To Do list to be sure House BillPay is synced up with GreatHouse Utilities.
Want to shop at the Mall. You will have to make an appointment for whatever section you want to shop in. (and don’t even try to book two sections in one timeslot, they won’t let you) Book transport to get down to GoTube and then you’ll have to book your GoTube transit slot.
InBuilding Groupschools are usually booked so be sure your kid’s Schoolview accounts are up to date and their school supplies are synced to Schoolview curriculum with the GreatHouse delivery system. Ooops, speaking of kids…
“Boys, I want you downstairs in the School room before the first login prompt!”
I was one to talk, Sarah and I both had better get down to the Office room for login before our own first prompts.
I’d take a vacation from it all in the GreatHouse VirtuaRoom, but I’d spend more time scheduling the getaway than I would have to enjoy it.
Whey To Eat
By
Michael Drake
King Cole and his wife the Queen were getting on in years. The Queen had become so forgetful that one day she served him a pie stuffed with twenty four still singing blackbirds. The King was usually a merry old soul but when the birds emerged from the pie and began to taunt him with songs of dainty dishes and sixpence, he decided it was time to get his royal derriere out of his castle and have some fun.
The old King, deciding to get away from the wife by pretending to count money in the counting house, joined his three fiddler friends for a smoke and some music. He knew the Queen was off in the parlor eating honey and bread so he called for his pipe and bowl and passed them around.
A sudden screech came from the palatial grounds. The maid, who was hanging out laundry, had been viciously attacked by one of the now livid blackbirds from the pie.
The blackbird managed to snap the maid’s nose clean off and was flying around above when the King arrived. The blackbird dropped the bloody nose on the King’s crown.
“Not so nice is it when you try eating someone who is still alive?” squawked the angry blackbird as it flew away.
The King, having returned to the now lethargic musicians and left with no pie to sate his new found hunger, relied on his pocketful of rye to satisfy his munchies. He had just finished his daily fiber intake when he noticed a little girl sitting on a mound eating some porridge concoction which looked better than live blackbird pie or raw rye. No sooner had he walked up to the little Miss than a spider scared her away; solving the King’s munchies with curds and whey.
Wool Mittens
By
Michael Drake
Bo and Mary were having a knock-down drag-out fight in the school yard. All the children watching the brawl were laughing and playing around the girls.
“Give me back my sheep, you bitch!” said Bo to Mary as she yanked on a handful of her hair.
“This isn’t your sheep, you whore!” screamed Mary. “It’s a lamb and it won’t stop following me around. All you do is pester your sheep. It’s no wonder you can’t find them. If you’d leave them alone for five minutes, you stupid douchebag maybe they’d come home on their own.”
Bo was so angry she stopped listening to what Mary was saying. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a black sheep at the edge of the playground. She threw Mary to the ground and was left with a handful of Mary’s hair. Mary got back up, screaming, and grabbed her lamb as she took off for the school building.
“Yo, ‘sup sister?” asked the black sheep. “I’ve got some bags full if you’re lookin’,” the sheep said to Bo.
“How many you got?” asked Bo, her curiosity peeked.
“Three bags full; I’ve got one promised to the old man and another to his bitty. I’m not dealing with the little loser boy who lives on the lane. He couldn’t stop crying. I think he needs Prosac more than anything. I should hook him up with that other loser working for Boy Blue. He’s always losing his sheep and crying. Right now he’s crashed under some haystack in the barn. Do you want this last one?”
Bo froze with indecision long enough for the black sheep to turn on its hoofs in disgust and walk away.
“You humans are whacked. I might as well give it to three kittens for making mittens.”
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