He's A Wreckin' Machine!
"Mr. Gyrobo, is it true that you've accepted Drone #389723's challenge?"
"Mr. Gyrobo, Drone #389723 says you ain't got the courage to face 'im. What say you?"
"Mr. Gyrobo-"
"Get these bums outta here!" Karl Überdale snarled, pointing at the gaggle of reporters surrounding me. Suddenly, the ground started to shake. As if the building was over a volcano, the floor split open, releasing four grotesque monstrosities. The monsters grabbed at the screaming journalists, dragging them down into the fire pit from whence they came.
"Hey, Karl, I don't know if I'm ready to take on the Drone."
"Don't worry Gyrobo. I gots faith in ya. Yer a wreckin' machine!"
"Ain't nobody gonna mess with my main man!"
"Yes, you've said that several times now. But Drone #389723 is an actual wreaking machine. They used him to tear down houses before he was retrofitted and given enough intelligence to fight."
"You just gotta want it enough! I know you," Karl began. The aged sorcerer pulled out a scrapbook and went through a twelve minute montage of our time together. "You haven't been hungry enough, Gyro. Can I call you Gyro?"
"No. Wait, if you pronounce it 'hero' like they do in Greece, then yes. But if you pronounce it the way it's supposed to be, like a gyroscope, then forget it. No sale."
"I've worked with you for twenty-some odd years, and yet I've never heard you say your own name before."
"That's because the communists were out to get me."
He stared at me, trying to understand how that last sentence could possibly make sense. Then he gave up and drank another swig of coffee. The man loves coffee.
"Yeah, so I signed you up for the fight. You're gonna fight Drone #389723, and- hey! Don't you walk away from me! I made you..." then he pulled out a blue vial. "And I can destroy you!"
"What's in that vial?"
"Gold!"
And then Karl started dancing about the room like a lemur. I hate lemurs... you don't want to know.
***
"After-glow! Gyro-bo! After-glow! Gyro-bo!" chanted the crowds. Sure, my theme song wasn't really catchy, but it sounded a lot better than Drone #389723's "Carpe diem, buy a dog! Carpe diem, buy a dog!"
This is Ciscos, my number one fan this week.
"Okay, I want a good, clean fight," said the umpire. Yes, there was an umpire. The usual guy who judges wrestling matches was out, so they got an umpire from the little league next door. You got a problem with that, tubby?!
"Unit active protocol delta," clicked my opponent. I could smell his fear.
As we levitated over to the corners of the ring, Karl teleported in next to me.
"Where have you been, Karl?! You were supposed to train me hours ago!"
"Gyrobo, you can't win! The guy's a wreckin' machine! Throw in the towel!"
"But..." I stammered, trying to make sense of Karl's sudden, yet inevitable betrayal. "You were the one who told me to fight him! You signed me up. I told you I didn't want to but-"
"And you gotta fight 'im, Gyrobo! He... he, uh... what?"
Then, with a glazed look in his eye, Karl lumbered off.
"You're on your own, kid."
"I'm fifty years older than you!"
"In robot years, Gyrobo. In robot years. You need to learn you some learning, young man."
*clunk*
"What was that?!"
"Oh, that's the bell," said the shortstop. What? I told you, we were next to a little league.
"I didn't hear no bell."
"Unit protection protocol active. Delta. Delta. Strike. Alpha. bzzz.... processing primary directive..."
"Not on my watch!" I screamed, punching him out with my patented robo-hook. A half-nelson later, and the pitiful remains of my once proud opponent lay before me, shaking in agony.
"Take that, random stranger!"
"I did it!" I shouted as the umpire counted to ten. "I'm the greatest there ever-"
"Noooooooo! Gregory!"
"Huh?" I turned around to see a middle-aged woman run out into the ring.
"Gregory, can you hear me?! Gregory?!"
"What's going...?"
"Hey, Gyrobo, I just remembered," said Karl off to my left. "Drone #389723 couldn't make it tonight. His car broke down outside of Memphis."
"Then who did I just..."
"That was just some guy. From the audience."
"Karl, have you ever been to Texas?"
"No. Want to go there right now?"
"You bet! Let's go to Tom deLay's house and get him to bake us cookies!"
"And also, we can see Mount Rushmore while we're there."
"Karl, you so crazy!"
"Mr. Gyrobo, Drone #389723 says you ain't got the courage to face 'im. What say you?"
"Mr. Gyrobo-"
"Get these bums outta here!" Karl Überdale snarled, pointing at the gaggle of reporters surrounding me. Suddenly, the ground started to shake. As if the building was over a volcano, the floor split open, releasing four grotesque monstrosities. The monsters grabbed at the screaming journalists, dragging them down into the fire pit from whence they came.
"Hey, Karl, I don't know if I'm ready to take on the Drone."
"Don't worry Gyrobo. I gots faith in ya. Yer a wreckin' machine!"
"Ain't nobody gonna mess with my main man!"
"Yes, you've said that several times now. But Drone #389723 is an actual wreaking machine. They used him to tear down houses before he was retrofitted and given enough intelligence to fight."
"You just gotta want it enough! I know you," Karl began. The aged sorcerer pulled out a scrapbook and went through a twelve minute montage of our time together. "You haven't been hungry enough, Gyro. Can I call you Gyro?"
"No. Wait, if you pronounce it 'hero' like they do in Greece, then yes. But if you pronounce it the way it's supposed to be, like a gyroscope, then forget it. No sale."
"I've worked with you for twenty-some odd years, and yet I've never heard you say your own name before."
"That's because the communists were out to get me."
He stared at me, trying to understand how that last sentence could possibly make sense. Then he gave up and drank another swig of coffee. The man loves coffee.
"Yeah, so I signed you up for the fight. You're gonna fight Drone #389723, and- hey! Don't you walk away from me! I made you..." then he pulled out a blue vial. "And I can destroy you!"
"What's in that vial?"
"Gold!"
And then Karl started dancing about the room like a lemur. I hate lemurs... you don't want to know.
"After-glow! Gyro-bo! After-glow! Gyro-bo!" chanted the crowds. Sure, my theme song wasn't really catchy, but it sounded a lot better than Drone #389723's "Carpe diem, buy a dog! Carpe diem, buy a dog!"
This is Ciscos, my number one fan this week.
"Okay, I want a good, clean fight," said the umpire. Yes, there was an umpire. The usual guy who judges wrestling matches was out, so they got an umpire from the little league next door. You got a problem with that, tubby?!
"Unit active protocol delta," clicked my opponent. I could smell his fear.
As we levitated over to the corners of the ring, Karl teleported in next to me.
"Where have you been, Karl?! You were supposed to train me hours ago!"
"Gyrobo, you can't win! The guy's a wreckin' machine! Throw in the towel!"
"But..." I stammered, trying to make sense of Karl's sudden, yet inevitable betrayal. "You were the one who told me to fight him! You signed me up. I told you I didn't want to but-"
"And you gotta fight 'im, Gyrobo! He... he, uh... what?"
Then, with a glazed look in his eye, Karl lumbered off.
"You're on your own, kid."
"I'm fifty years older than you!"
"In robot years, Gyrobo. In robot years. You need to learn you some learning, young man."
*clunk*
"What was that?!"
"Oh, that's the bell," said the shortstop. What? I told you, we were next to a little league.
"I didn't hear no bell."
"Unit protection protocol active. Delta. Delta. Strike. Alpha. bzzz.... processing primary directive..."
"Not on my watch!" I screamed, punching him out with my patented robo-hook. A half-nelson later, and the pitiful remains of my once proud opponent lay before me, shaking in agony.
"Take that, random stranger!"
"I did it!" I shouted as the umpire counted to ten. "I'm the greatest there ever-"
"Noooooooo! Gregory!"
"Huh?" I turned around to see a middle-aged woman run out into the ring.
"Gregory, can you hear me?! Gregory?!"
"What's going...?"
"Hey, Gyrobo, I just remembered," said Karl off to my left. "Drone #389723 couldn't make it tonight. His car broke down outside of Memphis."
"Then who did I just..."
"That was just some guy. From the audience."
"Karl, have you ever been to Texas?"
"No. Want to go there right now?"
"You bet! Let's go to Tom deLay's house and get him to bake us cookies!"
"And also, we can see Mount Rushmore while we're there."
"Karl, you so crazy!"
posted by Gyrobo at 9:45 PM
24 Comments:
.....
Bring back some cookies.....?
I'll do more than that... I'll brink back the kitchen sing!
Mmmmmm, cookies....
Aggghlll aggghhhll atlatl.
You sure did rock him and sock him, robot.
Tom deLay does make the best cookies...
If I understood half of what you said you would have made one fouth the sense you did, about one eigts of teh time
Oh yeah, remember that if you're going to hide out in Texas, you gotta have a fiddle in the band.
Are you sure that was fear you were smelling? Because the Hutt was eating a big vat of bake beans and, well, you know.
Yes, I think I saw him in the audience, next to the guy I mistook for that droid. I should've known it wasn't him, though, as he had no sensor pads...
Probably. I was supposed to fight a droid, and instead I accidentally knocked out a spectator. These things happen. Next time, it's personal.
Alright, I've been pondering this for a while, and I hate to say, all that comes to mind is 'what the hell just happened?'
God hope you don't have to go again, my eyes still bleed from first go around. That was one of the worst fights I've ever seen, and against a civvy no less. You should have been about to beat the crap out of the guy in a most spectacular manner. As far as I can tell, you'd get beaten by the twi'lek girl who announces the matches.
oh the poor fan
You wouldn't-
like me when I'm-
ANGRY!
Oh, that is soooo cool!
How do you make him turn purple?
You made you hat catch on fire. That is so cool. Can we try that again with Boots sittign on your head?
Gyro, that was so cool. can you do that again, except make your head turn into a sno-cone machine?
Last year, after I made my main avatar, I made about five others to convey specific emotions. I'll get to work on a snow cone machine one tonight, after the Earth cools down from its long hibernation.
That angry one sure is flashy.
It was my favorite. A half hour well spent. Or maybe ten minutes. I don't remember. The robot animatic that shows up on Roboshrub Inc. on Fridays took a half hour, though. It's ten times as amazing as the flaming head one.
Get it? Flashy!
Your skills are impressive.
Gyrobo's skills are mighty impressive, including programming, animation, eating, and telepathy.
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