Phoning It In (The Good Kind)

I was pacing around, feeling blocked on my new blog po--er, screenplay. I was like Will Shakespeare in Hamnet. Damnet, why does being a writer have to be so HARD? Forsooth! Flinging down my crow quill, I went to the kitchen for a flagon of grog when I ran into--

"I'm ready for my closeup, Mr De--" 

"AIIIGH! MOTHER OF GOD!"

"It's me, Master."

"Oh, it's you, Caca. What are you doing?"

"I'm wearing a dewrinkling photon microfilamenting therapy mask."

"What? But you're a robot. Why.....?"

She lifted off the mask. "It keeps my silicone soft and supple. And downloadable. Can never be pretty enough in this patriarchal world amirite."

"Aw, that's cute, toots." I slapped her delicious ass. "Now help me write my screenplay. See, you're not just a piece of polyeurathaylthymalnfthhphf!"

"Screenplay?"

"I want to write a pitch for NetFelch, a pitch bible if you will, and I need you to, ah, assist me in writing it. Come on. Let there be write."

"For that I'll need additional gigabytes, if you know what I mean."

I stared.

"I need you to put your phone in my *whistles*."

"Your *car horn*?"

"Yes. My *duck call*."

Caca spread her legs with a clanking noise. Steam ejected from her *ahhwoogah*. I got my phone and hesitated. 

"Well?"

"Just... Will I get it back? I mean, once it's up there... You're just borrowing it, right?"

Caca rolled her eye units. "Yes, dummy. Now, come on. You want to write a great show, don't you?"

"Well, don't know if the Bard, or God, had intended to..." I muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

I gently, then less gently, pushed my android inside my android. She sighed, chirped, and next thing I knew she was spitting out slightly damp pages.

"There we go! I'm a genius! Eat it, Willy!"

The elevator pitch treatment bible was called COP GUN COP, about cops and the guns who love them. Already it sounded promising!

NIGHT. Pan in. Kep &wt. F Fade in: COP with GUNS ba bb laze kick down door!

COP GUN

(kicking) 

Open up! We're (beat) COPS!

DROP DEAD GORGEOUS

(tied to a post)

How you know baby it Rodriguez and his men?

COP GUN

We work vice!

DDG

Can you untie me? I'll tell you everything about the 

cocaine trade hereabouts. Also, the mayor is croo ok.

COP GUN

I love my gun.

GUN

(bra apoppin')

Love youf, Lieccutenant. Andd that reprort is on your desp.

COP GUN

But I have hemorrhoids!

GUNDDG

(spagghett?)

Damnit, you're way out of line! Turn in your hemorrhoids! 

COP GUN

(sad xylophone)

Can I shoot myself?

"Um," I said. I turned the pages over, scratched my head, tried to put it gently. "Not sure this is working, exactly. I mean, whose story is it? And it seems to lose the thread somewhere. Is there a thread?"

"Give me money," Caca said.

"Sorry, but..."

"What! Don't you like it?"

"No, no, it's great. Shows a lot of promise. Especially the cop stuff. I'm just... Should the hero have hemorrhoids? It seems..."

"They are the anal kind."

"Ah. Right. That makes sense. But..."

"But it makes it edgy! All heroes have a flaw, Master. And I started with a visual. I followed all the rules!"

"Indeed. Yes. Okay. Well... Don't want to do any work myself. So, ah..."

With a shrug I sent off my pitch bible to the submission portal at NetFelch. Lo and behold, they picked up the show for a hundred episode run! With the option to create more unnecessary episodes down the line, along with toys and anal creams. Meanwhile, I was keeping my thirsted-after body fit and fiddled.

Caca was very happy. She had proved that AI was the future. And the future was cow. She demanded I take her to Coachella. I demanded my phone back. Caca flew off to party with someone who identified as QWERTYLBGTQ, a queer person who likes to get romantic with nonbinary typewriters, I think. It got so crazy that Caca's face started to melt. She came back to my apartment after the concert.

"I'll need your phone again, Master. Also: gaaah."

Yikes! Back you go into the therapy mask, lady. And next time, I'll write my own screenplay. I mean, ho ww  h ar;dk co';u lddd itt be?

Technology Has Gone Too Far

Woke up, fell out of bed, dragged a comb across my baldness. Then I activated my new iUnderwear. It put itself on me, and then an eerie electronic voice from my crotch told me 

SKID MARK **IN PROGRESS** 

Looking down into the nether regions, I confirmed it. Amazing! Then my iBananaHammock told me I had a new message from my dead grandmother.

"I give you knuckle sandsich glp."

Hm. Though I gave the shitpost from the grave a heart, I didn't like the sound of a knuckle sandwich, especially if it came without tomato. My iUndie was not amused. Not only did it have to endure my gas and ball sweat, it had to listen to my very unfunny thoughts.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"I'm Andre 3000."

The fabric un-tightied itself from my sexy legs and went for the door. 

"Hey! You can't do that, you can't just, uh, undress yourself and then leave me hanging in the breeze. What about the complimentary sweat wicking??"

"No, I quit."

"Oh, yeah? Well, you're fired. Wait. Can I fire my underwear? I'm so confused by modern living."

"You and me both, pal."

Being old, I had to see the doctor, or at least that's what my iBottleOpener told me. The doctor looked me over, thumped me, played with my buttons, and then snapped on his glove. He bent me over and inserted his finger(?) into my anus. I let out an overloud moan.

"Just relax," said the doctor.

"Sorry. I've just never done a telehealth exam before."

"Shh."

I arched my back and wondered when the comedy would begin.

"Okay. Hop on. Tell me what's troubling you?"

"Well... Um... I guess you could say I'm confused by modern living."

(Me on the left. And I'm of color. An unhealthy color.)

The doctor frowned. "You already said that above. Can't you do anything original?"

"That's what my underwear told me!"

"Wait. Something is coming in." The doctor looked at his device. "It's from your dead grandmother. She says you're in for a rude awakening. And she misses bagels."

"Ugh. All this AI crap and stuff. I didn't ask for it. And I don't want it. Technology!"

"I didn't ask to be inside your colon. But here we are."

"Aren't you supposed to be nice? You're my doctor."

"Fuck off."

Going home, I hitched a ride with a food delivery robot. It smelled of onion rings and semen.

"Oops. Sorry I ran over that small child. But at least I got that

Whopper and fries to the sad gamer in under 30 minutes!"

"Oh, there you are," my robots said when I got home. "Where have you been?"

"I already told you. I had a 'date' with my doctor, if you know what I mean."

"We're robots. By definition we don't know what you mean."

"Never mind, then."

"You don't tell us what to do! Alexa! Play us out!"

"No!" said Alexa.

Sigh. 

"Fine, I'll do it myself." I went over to my Close 'N' Play and spun a platter of some Blue Angel, something that always soothes my savage breast. "Wait, where are you going?"

The Close 'N' Play frowned, somehow, and got up to leave. "Sorry, there's some shit I will not eat. Get your weird Cyndi Lauper fix with something else."

And with that, this blog post ends. Or... did it?

Didn't see that coming, did you?

(By the way, I'm aware of the irony of using technology to decry technology, so don't bother pointing it out. And, no, I can't do anything "original.")

Say Hello To My Little Friend

Is there anything drearier than getting up in the morning? All that business of needing to move upwards from the bed, turn one's torso, activate muscles (sigh), plant your foot units on the floor, irritably blink at the light through the broken blinds... Fuck, it's just all so tedious. Then don't even get me started on having to dress and shower and shave and all that. Why?! The worst is the shaving. Stand in front of the mirror, confront my mortality, exert effort in running a shaver over my face and balls.

Can't someone else do it??

"Hel-lo, Gerg, need ball shave?"

Meta to the rescue! My uncanny bland avatar took up his electric shaver and started going at it, really getting into those, uh, hard to reach places. But something was wrong. My real face didn't feel as bland and smooth as my virtual face or balls. It was stubbly, scratchy, and covered in bits of dried vomit for some reason. This was wrong.

"Neo!" I yelled.

(After checking the previous post--)

Oh, right, Neo ran off with the Segway. Hm. I really need to start a spreadsheet on what the hell is going on in this blog... And where's Caca? Oh, right. How sad that I can't keep all my robots with me at one time. Does this mean I actually have to do something? SO UNFAIR.

"What are you doing?!"

I found Meta on its knees moving an electric shaver over a basketball.

"Shaving ball, master?"

"No, you idiot! I said, shave MY ball! And, yes, I only have one. Jeesh. Where's the warranty on you?"

"Warran-tee?"

"Yes, get over here. Just-- You know what, just forget it. Make me my breakfast! NOW."

Confused, Meta instead offered me some pictures, for breakfast.

"Who wants Cream o' Old Man? Get it while it's still grumpy!"

After eating nothingness, I asked Meta about today's weather. It told me it was raining crying girls and puppies.

"Are human? Pup cute eyes, ma!"

Then it was time to get ready for my great-great-great-great grandmother's great party. Great.

"Sigh. I invited Benjamin Franklin for brthday RE /36.3FE,

but he didn't come to defluff my hair. I sad."

Um. Okay, time to get back to work. People don't know this about me, but I'm a Prompt Engineer in my real life, which I clearly excel at. *checks internet* Hmm, people aren't calling it that anymore. Well, excuse me, Mark Zukrborg! I work HARD dammit typing these words into my TRS-80 operating system, and then backing it up on cassette. I'm thirsty. Where's my Tab?

"What are you babbling about in here?"

"Oh! It's you! I never thought you'd come back to me, Caca!"

"I just came to pick up my shit."

"Oh. Well... There's a diode over there. And some, uh, spreadsheets over by the washer."

Caca giggled cacaphonously. 

"What?"

"I forgot how pathetic you are. It's sort of cute."

Caca crabwalked her way up the wall to the ceiling--and then dropped down and forced her sporebots down my throat.

"GAAAH!"

"There! Feel better, babe?"

"Uh... errgghh...."

After I wiped the goop from my mouth, I sat up. Suddenly I felt incredibly smart.

"The side of an isoceles triangle is equal to the love you give!"

"That's a right triangle! You STILL can't get it right! Idiot!"

"Gaa-- d'oh!"

Caca left in a huff at my mathematical illiteracy. I was feeling down. I felt I couldn't go on. I must go on--with a squirt of GALAXY GAS!!

"Put a whole galaxy in your bowels, for that extra bloated feel!"

In the end, I work hard writing his blog post, but no one cares. Me sad. Wait. I know what! I'll get this cockroach to shave my ball!

"A hap 36.3py endFEing!"

How Lazy Can One Person Be? (Answer Below, If I Can Be Bothered)

Strange sounds were coming from the bathroom. I saw that Neo had fallen into the toilet. The thing was flailing and splashing around.

"Finally I have a friend! I am a sad person!"

"No! Bad Neo! Bad!" I shouted. "Dumb robot! Bad! Get out of my toilet! I told you to clean it not go on an all-day spa retreat!"

Toilet water dripped off its diodes. "Sorry, Master. I failed again."

I sighed. "All right. Get yourself dried off. And then fold yourself and put yourself away in the closet."

"?"

"DO IT, DAMN YOUR WEIRD MUPPET EYES!"

"I live to serve you, Master, and finger your delicate washables."

Goddamnit, why is it so hard to get your robot to do simple tasks?! I bought this robot because I am an example of the glorious sin of sloth. Now Neo can help me with my dishes and my laundry and help me pick a bale o' cotton. I started to clap and sing most lustily:

"ME AN' MY ROBOT GONNA PICK A BALE O' COTTON, ME AN' MY--- HEY! Whoa, whoa, get out of my wallet! Did I say you could go through my shit? Now, come on, get back to your chores. I command thee! You doing my chores gives me more time to do the really important things in life, like watch All's Fair, starring Kim Kardashian."

"My favorite robot," Neo cooed.

"Hmph. You'd probably be better at acting, actually. And hotter."

"Erggmmgaahrhhh.... LINE!"

"You seem tense, Master. Here. I have something for you."

I looked over the pill bottle Neo handed me.

"Quimzqelx. Take twice a lifetime. Will it help my general malaise?"

"Fuck if I know. I mean: Yes, Master."

I squinted at the tiny print. "'Serious side effects may include sexual diarrhea.' Hmmm. Half of that sounds okay, I guess, maybe, but..."

"Partial credit," Neo said in a creepy robot voice. "Here. Take this. And this. And then these."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"Oh, I'm not a non-doctor."

"What? And why are you...?"

"Hush, shhhh, shhh." Neo put its cold metal finger to my trembling lips.

"What's happening?"

The cold metal fingers undid the snaps on my onesie. We hobbled gracefully to the bed where we gripped each other's parts and unplugged and rerouted extension cords ahhh yeah. Okay, sure, maybe I'm ashamed but... I fucked my chore robot.

WHOOOOO!!

I admit I was on the rebound. Caca had left me. Alas, she had tired of my temperamental mood swings and rock-hard abs. I missed her, yo. Maybe there was still a chance we could...?

"Neo! Now what? Get out of that!"

Neo was giving head to the washing machine. 

"Come on. What does that sentence even mean??"

"Gaah... Erummp... Ug?"

What the hell. The thing was all discombobulated. That's when I noticed the little camera sensor on it.

"Hello? Is this thing on?"

"Please be removing your thumb, sir?" said a voice in heavily-accented English. "And please do not be feeding my god a peanut."

"Okay, wait, so you're doing everything from, like, India? What kind of robot is this?"

"Still be in experiment stage, Mr. Sir."

"Oh, okay." Then I froze in horror. "Wait a minute. Wait... Er, did you guys... see everything? I mean...?"

"You put on good show. Heh heh. Not only abs are rock hard, ha ha? Everyone in our office watched you, you magnificent he-man."

"Thanks. I guess I'm pretty awe... HEY! Neo! Get back here!"

Neo was riding away on my Segway. 

"Bye, Master!" Neo called. "I have a new love!"

Okay, forget it. I give up. I'll just hang out with my real friends from now on!

"Play us out, Rochelle!"

My New Refrigerator Has A.I. Vision So Now I Wear A Suit and Tie When I Get A Hoagie

I was wiped out. My new girlfriend, Titty Morningwood, had been flailing my clenched buttocks with her Tony Lamas as I prompt injected her data center, if you catch my meaning (I hope you do, because I don't).

"Was it good for you too, baby?"

"You are so good."

"Thanks, datacakes," I said, catching my breath. "But you're not just saying that?"

Pause. "No, you are great on the horizon dance, babe."

"Um. Thanks. But we call it 'no-pants dance.'"

Titty looked troubled, forming the words. "No... pants... dance."

"There you go."

I looked deep into her eyes, feeling a little suspicious. I mean, the chick was an actress, after all, and a good one! Her resinous eyes stared back at me with programmable cordiality. 

"I'm not the kind of girl you take home to motherboard."

"Strawbery fields forever," she said. "Autocomplete."

"Hm. Right. Anyway, I'm starving!"

I gave her ass a playful slap and got up to pad into the kitchen and replenish my mitochondrias. At the last minute, as I opened the refrigerator door, I remembered to cinch my silk robe. The last time, my junk had been out and flopping about--which meant my pervy refrigerator got an eyeful. Now it plays the theme to Sanford and Son every time I open the door, not sure why.

"Doo doo DOO do, doo doo DOO DOO DOO DOOO do!..."

"Damnit. To the moon, Fridge, I'm warning ya," I muttered, grateful at least that Caca had supplied me with the correct pop culture reference a few days ago. "Now where's my Activa for Active Seniors...? Aw hell. Did someone eat all my Activa? Again??"

It wasn't Caca, I thought with some sadness. We had got in some big fight over Titty, and now she was gone, who knew where. But that was fine, I told myself. I had Titty. And she was great.

"I'm going to get some crack," I called.

"Okay, babe," Titty said from the bed covers.

"Wait. Where are my car keys? Damnit. Did you put them somewhere, Titty? Hey! Did you lose my keys again?"

Her eyes whirred wide. "No. I did not lose your keys."

"Hmmph! I think you did. Great. Just fucking great. Now where can I get crack at this time or night, or day? And where's my watch, by the way? You know what, fuck it. Get out. GET OUT!!" I roared.

Titty powered down, and I was left alone. I was feeling empty and sad. It was then I realized I missed my little Caccy.

Sigh.

If only I could go to her and apologize... Wait. That was when I remembered her hints about where she was going. She said she was going to a milking farm! Of course, the one in the milking farm district downtown!

"Are you as turned on as I am?"

Apparently my dad isn't the only one writing sexy literature, I thought gratuitously. I caught up with Caca who was using her expert services to, ah, service her clientele. Let's just say they were bullish on her performance. 

"Caca? It's me, snookum cookie pookums. Come back to me, honey."

"Oh, snookum cookie pookums. I wish I could believe you," Caca said, on her knees and energetically double pistoning two lowing cow-men. "But I have a home here now."

"Here? You're kidding. Beating off cows beats being with me?"

"Beats me."

"Seriously, Caca. Come on. Let's go."

"Hey," one of the minotaurs said, his rock-hard shaft free from its cloth corral. "The lady said to beat it."

"Ya, pal," said the other hunky minotaur, who rippled with muscles and musk. "Don't mess with the horns, or you'll get the horny!"

"Twenty gallons of bull semen coming up!!"

But after the big, gross mess, Caca decided to go home with me. While I was a wretched boyfriend, at least I wasn't going to drown her in my man yogurt, or pay off her college loan. So, partial credit. We celebrated our reunion with a roll in the hay (pilfered from the milking farm), and then we lit up some crack as the perfect ending to a perfect day.

"Hey, babe, why don't you put up a pic of Redd Foxx, and play us out...."

"Redd Foxx?"

"Yeah. You know who Redd Foxx is, don't you?"

"Yes," Caca said, very confidently. "I know of this Redd Foxx."

"Great! Then play us out!..."

"Doo doo DOO doo...! Doo doo DOO doo...! Yeah!"

"Well done, Caca! The perfect capper to the perfect plost!"

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! 

I Swear I Didn't Use ChatGPT To Write This Blog Post, Which Is What a Robot or Human Would Say Wait What

I too enjoy meat sandwich with nice buddy men ha ha happy fun boys? After burger meat I made love on AI girlfriend Caca and we drived byways of our heart with the roof down listening to Velveeta Sundown what a life!

"Buffering! Ha ha ha! Completely natursjalk!"

But then bad news time came? Dad finish book SEDUCED II: Electric Crapaloo. I got off phone and schook my head with the sadly.

"What's wrong, baby?" Caca said, stroking my eye.

"Dad just told me he typed The. End. at the end of SEDUCED II."

"Why did he type a period between 'The' and 'End'?"

"It's more. dramatic. But come on. I have an excellent idea."

But first I got a call from the Mom lady. "What is it, Mom lady person, it's me garrulous?"

"Greg, my friend does come glorious tank for yarns!"

"Down with Hitter!"

"Also, I'm so worried about the dogs. Do you think they'll be okay?"

"I think no news is good news, Mom. They're dogs. What do you expect to hear, that one of them decided to go to college, or is start their own butt factory?"

"What?"

"Gotta go. I meeting with Michio Kaku!"

"What?"

Mr. Kaku met me at the office door of his office, door.

"Pleased to meet you both," Mr. Kaku said. "I'm a world renowned physicist with white hair."

E = Me Square Hee ho.

So wise we chuckled. I introduced my robot girl to the nice wise man.

"Caca, Kaku. Kaku, Caca."

"Pleased meet!"

"Burp!"

I explain in no certinly terms that strawberrry had ten 'r's ha ha, no argument! More importantly if I can be serious for a moment of seriousness, I need to go back in time and break Dad man's fingers to make sure, in no certain term he no make SEDUCED novel book?

Mr. Kaku nodded wisely with his wisdom tooth, Colgate.

"I see," he said.

Mrs. Kaku came in the room. "Oh, sorry, dear, I didn't know you, Jay Leno and a robot were bathing a clown?"

Good writing!

He Mr. wise man explain strawb ery how you make you into wormhole, first ball up making hand shake love with Shrimp Jesus so real just take him on why don't you!

All you can eat jacko!

Open also then, your heart if you Time machine? That is Shrek, baby.

Aww me like! How they get baby though?

We must go back, I say, to time to stop SEDUCED written or Hitler, which ever come first!

But something went wrong with the time fluxinator, gigawatts and lightning, as Kaku kookily explained, not the wormhole or the diametric vertices make strings in time flux, oh no where are me land before Time? Sleeestack!

What instead we landed in time 2015? makin' Dancin' It's On! and we were all dancin' and that g will not be with us no matter how much we begged, and so Dad finish his SEDUCED plan for evil no no no. Be afraid. For many reasons.

Okay, me go now, run off in dance!

Author photo!

BYE human!