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“We Need to Get Out of Here”

  • by jenIt’s a Rolex
  • silver-haired thief
  • what I get for respecting vocations
  • small jar of nutmeg in the nightstand
  • looked like steak tartar

Tune in next time part 535      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“We need to get out of here,” I said. “Change into something less conspicuous than that wedding dress.”

I crossed to the closet and opened it, but it was empty. Likewise the dresser drawers. The only thing I found in the whole room was a long filmy scarf with a gaudy gold men’s watch wrapped up inside.

“It’s a Rolex,” Tessa explained. “I stole it from a silver-haired thief who in turn stole it from my husband-to-be. The thief was very cross with me. He said that he would never dream of stealing from another thief, but, quote, that’s what I get for respecting vocations, unquote.” She smiled. “I reminded him that there’s no honor among thieves, and bid him farewell. I want to sell it to finance my escape from from my fiancé.”

She unzipped her wedding dress and let it fall to the floor, then wrapped herself in the scarf. It was adequate to cover her undergarments, but not much more. She strapped the clunky watch to her wrist.

“Hand me that small jar of nutmeg in the nightstand drawer,” she said.

I did, and she rubbed in on her cheeks like blush until they smelled like cookies and looked like steak tartar.

“No one will recognize me now!” she enthused.

“Be careful with that nutmeg,” I warned. “Too much can cause hallucinations.”

“I know!” she giggled. “Why do you think I keep it in the nightstand?”

If my suspicions were correct about who she was meant to marry, I couldn’t even blame her. That guy was such a dick.

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My Programming Won’t Permit Me

  • by KentNot only is he boring and bad at archery
  • dubiously at his schnitzel
  • far too spicy for their taste
  • record-breaking decibel level
  • my son just won the spelling bee

Tune in next time part 534      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“My programming won’t permit me to answer that question,” replied the Tessabot. “At least, not directly. But I can give you hints.”

This was totally on-brand for the villainess whose voice was on the self-destruct message.

“Not only is he boring and bad at archery, but he detests Teutonic cuisine. He once spent a whole state dinner staring dubiously at his schnitzel, because it might have contained traces of black pepper and his whole family find that ingredient far too spicy for their taste.”

“Wait, is it–”

My question was cut off when a new announcement blared from the Tessabot at a record-breaking decibel level.

“I interrupt this nefarious scheme,” the familiar voice tittered deafeningly, “to let everyone know that my son just won the spelling bee!”

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“Who Built You?”

  • by jenbehind which lurk
  • just an hour and a half later
  • resulting fist fight
  • bought the soundtrack on a cassette tape
  • barred from the theater for behaving inappropriately

Tune in next time part 533      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Who built you?” I asked the Tessabot. I wondered whether it was the owner of the all-too-familiar voice on the self-destruct message, or if she was merely the evil facade behind which lurked an even greater danger.

“All I know is that Tallulah built the first Tessabot, and just an hour and a half later I was created using the same plans.” She sucked the bean juice out of another taco. “Everything she is programmed to do, I do 90 minutes later. The resulting fist fights have taken many people by complete surprise. But who created me, and why, is a mystery.”

It was the same old song, one I’d heard many times. So many, in fact, that it was like I’d bought the soundtrack on a cassette tape and memorized it and later got myself barred from the theater for behaving inappropriately by trying to start up a Rocky Horror-style floorshow.

I sighed and asked, “And who are you supposed to be marrying today?”

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When the Tessabot Showed Me the Black Lingerie

  • by Kentfight the transient river hobos
  • one good, hard jerk
  • friend’s especially thoughtful taco choices
  • get my teeth dirty
  • Mmmm… bean juice.

Tune in next time part 532      Click Here for Earlier Installments

When the Tessabot showed me the black lingerie, the rest of the clue made sense. Her self-destruct mechanism was based on a grenade launcher. But time was running out, to judge by the accelerating beeping noises coming from her.

Henry stood and let the fancy white boot drop from his hands. He stumbled toward the door.

“Hey, we’re not done!” I shouted.

“Sorry!” he cried in reply. “But I’d rather fight the transient river hobos than get blown to bits here with you.” He tripped over the pile of undergarments he’d been trying to steal, then lay there on the floor sobbing in terror.

Tessa’s beeping merged into a single, piercing tone. I sprang up and seized her right arm. Hoping feverishly that my hunch was right about how the launcher was positioned within her, and praying it was a Mark VII model or earlier, I gave her arm one good, hard jerk.

The keening sound stopped, and we were all still there.

“Ow,” Tessa complained. “Are you trying to dislocate my shoulder?”

“Well, yes,” I said, pulling her to her feet. “I’ll make it up to you, once the live explosive device has been removed from your torso.”

We stood there staring into each other’s eyes for a long time. Quite a long time, apparently, because Henry had time to fetch us a celebratory meal. I wondered if the Tessabot was set up for eating as I surveyed my new friend’s especially thoughtful taco choices. I grabbed a hard-shell at random off the tray, ravenous and eager to get my teeth dirty. I chomped, and it leaked down my chin. The Tessabot intercepted the trickle of liquid before it reached my shirt, licking my face clean and murmuring, “Mmmm… bean juice.”

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As I Slid My Fingers Between Tessa’s Toes

  • by jenwhen the sun has gone down and the owls are serenading you
  • huddling together for warmth
  • well you *are* drunk
  • when a woman comes to you in black lingerie
  • proper use of grenade launchers

Tune in next time part 531      Click Here for Earlier Installments

As I slid my fingers between Tessa’s toes in search of the manual override switches, she giggled and tried to jerk her feet away. I had to grab her by the ankle to hold her foot still, and at last found the first switch. As I depressed it, Tessa shrieked with laughter and collapsed, winding up on her bottom on the floor in a poofy ocean of white satin. I quickly found the corresponding switch on her other foot. As soon as I depressed it, Tessa’s mirth switched off. She leaned forward and took my face in her hands. She said, “Tonight, when the sun has gone down and the owls are serenading you, and you and your lover are huddling together for warmth under the stars and the moon and the owlsong, promise you will call your brother and tell him I love him, Jason. Promise me!”

“If you love him, why are you marrying someone else?” I lisped. “And if you were a robot, where would your self-destruct override switches be?”

“Well you are drunk, I do declare!” Tessa huffed. She sat back and said, “Would you even know what to do when a woman comes to you in black lingerie and offers to teach you the proper use of grenade launchers?”

“Who’s asking?” I said. It seemed like a code phrase, but it wasn’t one I recognized.

Tessa slipped her wedding dress strap off her shoulder, exposing a black bra.

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“Stick Around, Henry”

  • by Kentsomething tells me that I shall soon know
  • drinking Beer® brand beer
  • bedecked in neon and pleather
  • used as an occasional base by murderous pirates
  • begin to giggle audibly

Tune in next time part 530      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Stick around, Henry,” I drawled. “This young lady needs our help.”

Henry dropped the armload of panties and bras and sidled closer, his spurs jingling. “Shouldn’t we just run for it? From what I just heard, she’s just a robot.”

A robot, yes. But not just a robot.

I stooped to start untying her left boot. “Get the other one. You know,” I said, “something tells me that I shall soon know if I’m quicker than a cowboy at taking off a bride’s fancy footwear.”

Henry bent to his assignment, sweat dripping from his forehead. “Not really. I’m an accountant.”

At that moment, the Tessabot’s reboot sequence completed. She smooshed down her frilly skirt to get a look at the men molesting her feet. “Henry!” she exclaimed. “I thought you’d be somewhere drinking Beer® brand beer until you forgot all about us. Then there’s you,” she addressed to me. “Why aren’t you bedecked in neon and pleather, limbering up your embouchure so you don’t sprain anything during the performance?”

“Hey,” Henry said, “you do look a lot like Jason. What are you doing in Brackish Bay?”

I held a finger up to my lips. Having the bot confused about my identity could give me an advantage. But I was glad he’d blurted out where I was, even if it meant I would have to find my way home from a remote island used as an occasional base by murderous pirates.

At last the boots were unlaced, and Tessa helpfully stepped out of them. The stockings were made of ornate lace with gaps through which I could inspect her toes. As I searched for the override buttons said to be between the cute little digits, I heard the Tessabot begin to giggle audibly.

“Uh-oh,” I said. “This self-destruct mechanism seems rather ticklish.”

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Two Tessabots, at Least

  • by jenemitting sad noises
  • ear-penetrating intensity
  • virtually impossible to do it with just one person
  • the glacier that once covered New York City
  • very individualized

Tune in next time part 529      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Two Tessabots, at least. Who knew how many there could actually be? I stood guard over her as she rebooted, emitting sad noises as I contemplated whether I would ever see the real Tessa again. Whether there had ever been a real Tessa.

The robot before me beeped three times, and then played an alert message at ear-penetrating intensity. “This TSS-A Unit will be online in 29 seconds. The automatic self-destruct requires a double manual override, and it is virtually impossible to do it with just one person, so good luck.” The alert voice was well-known to me, and covered my heart with a layer of icy dread as thick as the glacier that once covered New York City back in the 80s. This Tessabot was sent to me personally, a very individualized form of revenge.

“Two of the override switches are between her fourth and fifth toes,” the alert continued. “But I’m not going to tell you where the other two are.”

I looked in dismay at the intricately laced high-heeled boots adorning Tessa’s feet.

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In This Life I’ve Learned Not to Be Easily Shocked

  • by Kentanything from mimes to
  • your allergies are getting worse
  • put your finger down my throat
  • felt slick and slippery
  • stealing her underwear

Tune in next time part 528      Click Here for Earlier Installments

In this life I’ve learned not to be easily shocked. There could be danger around every corner, anything from mimes to ninjas to — shudder — my family. Yet, seeing that dress on Tessa shook me. I forbade myself tears, but couldn’t prevent myself from sniffling.

Tessa patted my shoulder. “I can tell your allergies are getting worse,” she said softly. I saw in her eyes that she wasn’t really fooled. She peered into my own eyes, surveying the aftermath of the earthquake inside. “This is going to sound like a strange request,” she went on, “but, put your finger down my throat and press the button back there.”

I drew back.

“There isn’t much time,” she begged. “He’s on his way, and if he gets the ring onto my finger I’m doomed. Unless you can reach the override.” She opened her jaw wide, too wide, waiting for me.

“Are you a…” I stammered. “A new Tessabot?”

She nodded, and flapped her hands impatiently.

I reached in, fitting my whole hand inside her mouth. Everything felt slick and slippery and alive, not robotic in the least. But when I probed her uvula and the vicinity, she didn’t gag. And sure enough, I found a button. I pressed it firmly and withdrew my hand.

Tessa’s head resumed its normal configuration, except that her eyes rolled back to show only whites. I kept a lookout while she rebooted, which is how I discovered Henry the bogus cowboy stealing her underwear.

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It Had Been So Very Long

  • by jenmagic in the mouth
  • uttering an exclamation of surprise
  • sing like an alien
  • used to be a rodeo champ
  • say 53 more hilarious things

Tune in next time part 527      Click Here for Earlier Installments

It had been so very long since I saw her. I was awestruck anew by her beauty.

“Tessa,” I breathed, and her name was like magic in the mouth.

She said my name like she was uttering an exclamation of surprise, and yanked me into the bungalow by my lapels.

“I should have known you’d show up,” she said, cupping my face in her hands and staring into my eyes. “Wherever there is karaoke, there you are, ready to sing like an alien who used to be a rodeo champion on his home planet.” She went on to say 53 more hilarious things about my passion for the art of the empty orchestra, but I was too stunned to make note of them all. Tessa — my darling Tessa, love of my life — was wearing a wedding dress. It was for her reception that the PSLM² were rehearsing, her reception at which Jason was going to rap. Henry the faux-cowboy was here to win her back. But who was she marrying on this fateful day?

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“Yes, I’ve Heard of Jason”

  • by Kentit was fully two hours before she regained consciousness
  • lips that asked to be kissed
  • my breath is minty
  • cold sweat stood out from every pore of my body
  • looked quite majestic

Tune in next time part 526      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Yes, I’ve heard of Jason,” I said, looking around. “You know, on second thought maybe it wouldn’t be right for me to disrupt your sound check. Tell Henry good luck for me.”

“He’ll need it,” the double-ersatz cop said. “Her new groom is tough to beat. Rumor has it that when they first made love, it was fully two hours before she regained consciousness.”

“That sounds…” I looked all around again. The last thing I needed was for Jason to learn my whereabouts. “Um, very romantic. And not at all like he roofied her.” It occurred to me that maybe it’d be handy for me to learn my own whereabouts. “Say, can you tell me the quickest way to Pittsburghistan?”

“Henry doesn’t know, but I asked her out once myself,” the faux fuzz went on, and I realized he wasn’t even listening to me. “She had lips that asked to be kissed, except for when she actually spoke and those lips asked me to step back. I always make sure my breath is minty, yet she pushed me away.”

A lisping voice called from the edge of the clearing, “Those Bumpkin Spice Cheese Puffs better yield the stage, because it’s time for Jason to rant and rage. About weddings.” Cold sweat stood out from every pore of my body. I walked unhurriedly to the front door of the bungalow and tried the knob. Locked! I pressed the button for the doorbell, and while the elaborate carillon chimed inside, I studied the ornamentation around that button. Enamel and semiprecious stones made up the design, which looked quite majestic there on the wall of this quaint, colorful little house.

The door opened. “You!” I exclaimed.

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