I Make Love to My A.I. Girlfriend with My New A.I. Live Meta Ray-Bans, and I Regret It Semi-Instantly

You never know what you'll find in the toilet, people. Like toilet people. And glasses! I fished them out and put them on. I went to the mirror to check out my rad look.

"I'm finally cool, Mommy!!"

I looked incredibly intelligent, though I wasn't as funny with glasses on.

"The sum of the hypotenuse is equal to the sides of an equilateral triceratops!" I said.

"That's a right triceratops, IDIOT," yelled someone from the stall.

"D'OH"

Still, I went forthwith into the day with my high-tech glasses. Why in the world would anyone throw away such a bitchin' pair of glasses? And why was toilet water dripping on my face? Oh, right.

"Korean barbecue? Korean barbecue?"

I looked around wildly. "Who said that?!"

"First, grate a peach, if you dare to eat it."

"What the..."

I took off my toilet glasses and realized they were, like, talking to me and stuff. These really were magical and giving me a reason almost to live! Getting home, I showed them to Caca, who was less enthused.

"You care more about those dork glasses than you do about me," she robotically intoned with feeling.

"That's not true, baby! You know I care about you, up to and including your manufacturer's recommended specifications. Now," I said, looking over my glasses and dropping trou, "give me some lovin'."

I got on her, but she pushed me off with robot strength. "I want you take me to dinner. I'm hungry."

"Aw baby. You're a robot. Come on."

"No!"

"All right, all right."

"Well? I want it to be nice. Romantic, with lots of French words. And a captain."

"Ugh. Um. Just a minute, babe, just a sec." I went into the other room and whispered. "Hey, Glasses, what do you suggest?"

I returned, brimming with braggadacio. "How about Korean barbecue tonight, babe?"

Caca gave me a narrow machine look. "Did your eyewear suggest that?"

"Come on. Let's just go. You said you were hungry, for some reason. And I don't know why you can't just eat the brown paste that came in the tube with your box."

"If you want to put your tube in my box, you'll have to take me out to somewhere nice."

"Fine, fine," I muttered, thinking I really needed to turn down the Wildean Wit setting on her Personality Matrix.

I touched my glasses. "Glasses, engage!" I commanded.

"They're glasses, dipshit," Caca said, "not a magic carpet."

My glasses ordered a cab, and after I shut up the toaster for making fun of me, we got in. It was a robot car with no driver, which was reassuring. I'd hate to actually talk to some fucker! Speaking of which, I dropped trou and climbed on Caca in the back seat. She was looking fine, I must say, and I couldn't help myself.

"I told you, I'm nonbinary!" she said, shoving away my tube.

"I'm soo confused. Does that mean you... that we... um, they...??"

"Engage the female with a kiss," advised my glasses. "Start with a kiss, boy."

"Thanks, Glasses!"

The cab swerved.

"Hey, watch it!" I checked my Apple Watch. It started burbling at me, while the cab voice up front told me to button my trousers and Glasses got in an arguement with Caca and I yelled at Siri to find me a good Korean barbecue, I just wanted a Pepsi, actually!

"Happy birthday, Mr. President," Caca growled creepily, doing a Marilyn Manson voice as I tried, and failed, to give it to her. I got out my phone and pushed the slider on the app to Less Sexy but it wasn't working. The watch and the cab and Siri and my homework robot kept fighting, and then Will Smith was eating spaghetti next to me help!

I finally had enough. I was going to get laid if nothing else, boy-os.

But it seemed my boning experience had been prodded overhard. All the confused grappling must have sent a pulse of electromagnetic radiant quantum meme coins into the ethernet and, like, destroyed everything. Planes fell out of the sky. A screaming came across the sky, also. Biblical stuff with buildings having orgies with each other and birds doing it with bees and such and such. Civilization was done, folks. Finito.

"No one must know this was all caused by Henry Kissinger dropping his

Meta A.I. Ray-Ban Glasses in the toilet. Him, the signer of the Paris Peace Accord."

Sobbing, I carried Caca in my arms as I wandered a desolate CGI landscape. As the diseased sun set over the blighted city, I tried to make a fire. But no matter how much I commanded Glasses, they told me nothing. Finally, I angled them at the declining, poetic rays of the sun. The lenses were too crappy to actually get the nest of twigs to ignite, but then I busted the crap glasses and used the shards to spark a fire. We were saved! A band of ragged, apocalyptic people gathered around the little fire I had made with my primitive advanced technology.

"Eat it, Ray Bradbury!" I yelled to the sky. 

It was a new age. We were free to start over, free of our robot overlords. 

We stared into the fire. Someone said they missed playing Candy Crush. Another said they missed their Roomba, sexually. I had to admit I missed Caca and her robot vagina. 

We were quiet.

Then, stealthy but with increasing panic, we jammed together random pieces of junk and stood the thing before us. While some fell to their knees to worship our new overlord, I dropped trou and got my dick right properly torn off que sera sera!