I’m a little strange.
I am sitting here in the airport with my robot, Smokey.
Yes, I have a steam powered robot, named Smokey, from when I was fourteen and saved an alternate universe from total destruction.
Anyway, Smokey says to me “Chhet-ssk. Pfft beee bap.”
I laugh. He’s such a kidder.
What? Of course you have never seen him. He’s invisible. Duh. He’s only partially of this dimension.
So, I say to Smokey, because we’re people watching, “Man, I’d hate to be him walking through security.”
“Skree shop, tkk tkt sbbpht.”
What? Oh. Around the corner and down the hill from my childhood home were the woods I used to play in with my friends. We built tree forts with zip lines and such. One day I found an arch. It sort of looked wooden, but sort of metallic. It tasted like syrup.
Yes, I tasted it. Good story telling requires all senses and how can you use them if you don’t taste random objects. Try to keep up. When I tapped on it, it rang out like a whoopee cushion and it smelled like chocolate covered bacon slowly roasting over a propane grill.
I surmise that it was part of a downed spaceship or time machine or something. It must have created an energy field that warped me into that alternate universe. And of course, they had a prophesy about a stranger saving them. I didn’t want to help them though. I just wanted to get home, because thursday was pizza day. I lived there for three hundred and eighteen years, but when I finally got the portal to open and let me back through, I had only aged fourteen minutes, physically.
Time to go. Airplane is here…
But now you know, if I seem a little strange… Well, try sitting next to an invisible robot for a while…
