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Ten thousand years of Roboshrub.

Fangs for the memories.




In today’s state, Roboshrub Incorporated is an entity entirely devoted
to the execution of what normal people would refer to as “bad ideas.”

It was the creator’s original idea that all concepts, whether
useful or not, contribute to the global subconscious level of progress
for the human race. Therefore, we contend that no idea is an unfit
idea, and vow to act on each and every one of them.

Roboshrub Inc.
Public Communications Department






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For your insolence, I condemn you to...

Suffer the Fate of a Thousand Bees!
(Before they go extinct)

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4.16.2006

This Ain’t Yer Pappy’s Voyage

Moonlight came in through the window and lit up the room. It was a grand, glorious April night, and I was lookin’ forward to an evenin’ of communication with me ancestral spirits. As a level 9 member of the Order of Psychic Buccaneers, me mental prowess allows me ter commune with beings on other planes o’ existence. I was all settled in, me spirit map out and ev’rythin’, and then came a knock at me cabin door.

“Captain Hazari Metabeard?”

I looked up from me map. A pungent aroma of rotten fish and burning hair wafted into me nostrils. Yarrr, what a stench! The next thing I knew, I be face ter face with some kind o’ creature from right outta me nightmares. A gigantic insect, ’bout 4 and a quarter cubits in height, outlined by a thick blood-red exoskeleton. The shock of it drove me from me plane of higher consciousness, which be quite painful for someone as attuned to the cosmic strings as I.


“Put ’er there!”

“Wretched beast!” I screamed as I pulled out me cutlass. “What manner of creature be ye?!”

“Ha ha,” the thing clicked through its jaw-like pincers. “I assure you, my good fellow, you have no need to arm yourself against me. I am but a simple traveler, far from my native land. I heard,” and then it paused to click its jaws a few times. Then it began to advance toward me. “Human language is so... verbal, wouldn’t you say? Anyway, I heard that you sometimes ferry people around for a small fee. Is this accurate?”

“People, yes. But I don’t think ye’re people. Now skip the pleasantries, demon. Why be ye... here?”

“Oh, you wound me. I ‘be here’ to inquire, my good sir, if you would be willing to provide me transport to the Ant homeland, Phylogenua, in exchange for a trifle or two?”

I stared at its quiverin’ antennae. Reachin’ out with me pirate sense, I called out to the other psychic captains ter see if’n they knew where this so-called “Phylogenua” be. An old sea dog off the coast o’ Singapore was quite knowledgeable in this area; he’d been there a few years ago, an’ was willin’ ter sell me directions for one o’ me crew’s kidneys. As soon as the information on Phylogenua popped into me head, I knew there’d be trouble.


Demonstrating the much-maligned pirate sense.

“In case ye don’ know,” I laughed at the ant, “there be not one, not two, but nine catagory 5 hurricanes between us and Phylogenua.” His face, if ye can call it that, turned into what might be a scowl.

“I’m sure a little wind and water is no match for your cavalier wit and-”

“Don’t try to flatter me, ye six-armed ground-beast!” I blasted at ’im. “I ain’t afraid o’ nothin’, but on’y a fool or a madman would put ’is crew through that kind o’ life-threatenin’-”

“I will give you one dollar.”

***
It had been three days since we left the safety of land and the comforts of me favorite haunt, the Salty Psyche, for the untested waters o’ Phylogenua. Already I lost half a dozen o’ me crew to the merciless, unforgivin’ sea.


I was almost taken meself, by the deadly cuttlefish.

“Cap’in, I think our ‘guest’ has overstayed ’is welcome,” chirped me first mate, Porter Orvall.

“Arrr, I know, Porter. But I already divvied up the dollar he gave us among the crew. That’s over four cents per person! If’n ye want ter take the on’y source o’ sustenance they got, be me guest. Indeed, Porter, mayhaps ye’d like them to dance fer their food. Har dee har har. What a riot.”

His gray eyes suddenly misted over with an emotion I knew well; already I could hear the synapses o’ his brainpan clicking into place, the familiar scent of fear and anger that be all too common among we pirate types drifting twixt me nasal cavities.

“Get a hold o’ yerself, skippy!” I hollered right in his decrepit face. The old man had no right to think that way. “Maybe on a regular pirate ship where thought means nothin’, ye can get away with thinkin’ o’ mutiny, but here on the Sand Reaver, we don’t take kindly to errant thoughts!”

He rubbed his grizzled face.

“Cap’in... I don’ know wha’ came o’er me!”

“It be the Antman, Mr. Orvall. It be the Antman.”


“Now put down that toy train, an’ get back ter work!”

***
The voyage was more than a bit arduous. Aye, it gave “arduous” a whole new level of arginuity. Storm after storm battered the Sand Reaver across the span o’ the western Pacific, and by the time we landed on the desolate shores of Phylogenua, I was the on’y one o’ the crew left alive. Just like last time.

“Well, we be beached but good,” I grinned at the Ant creature as it scampered down the side o’ the ship on its sticky segmented feet. A more hideous sight I’ve ne’er seen. “And there be bite marks on the hull. Bite marks shaped like yer mouth.”

“Excellent, Captain.”

It pulled out some kind of plastic bag from the folds of its exoskeleton and started eatin’ what looked like a pre-digested dog. Sick.

“‘Excellent?’ Listen to me, ye overgrown giblet, the ship is beached, and me years o’ psychic intuition tells me it were ye what done it! How’m I s’possed ter get home?! Tap me heels together?!”

“Oh, Captain, no. There will be no need of that, for we are close to the Phylogenuan capital.”

“The Devil’s Nest,” I murmured, remembrin’ a little somethin’ o’ insect civilization from me days as a scribe on the S.S. Pillburton.

“Yes, and at the Devil’s Nest, we have teleporters that function to within .01% of Star Trek efficiency.”

What luck!

***
“Your ambassador has returned!” cried me insectoid companion as we approached the great wall of the Devil’s Nest.


“Open the gates! Yes, I mean you, Roy! Do some work for once!”

As we entered the city, me companion shed ’is blood-red exoskeleton, revealin’ a slightly smaller version of hi’self.

“Why did ye jus’ throw off yer skin?”

“This is my peoples’ true form.”

“But... it looks almost exactly like what ye-”

“We do it for tax purposes.”

I gazed over the city. It be the most beautiful sight I ever laid me eyes upon. Gold, as far as the eye could see! All kinds o’ jewels and gems dotted the streets. The self-styled ambassador led me through streets of giant ants until we reached a great spired building. As I walked through, I felt a tingling sensation throughout me body, as if all the psychic energy illuminating me soul was on fire. How gradient!

“Er, uh... Mr. Ambassador, is it? I’m wonderin’ how far off this teleporter be.”

“Oh, it’s just a little further. By the way, are you allergic to... honey?”

“No.” I didn’t like where this was headin’.

“Good! Humans rarely are. Now, before I introduce you to our Queen and teleport you home, I’d like you to wear our ceremonial... visitor... outfit. You don’t have to take off anything you’re wearing now, just let me pour some honey on your scalp... and your hands look a little dry. I think you might need some of our ‘teriyaki gloves.’ I hope you’ll abide by our customs,” he drooled.

No. This wasn’t gonna end well at all.


“And could you try to tenderize yourself? That would be great.”

“Uhhh... I’d like to see yer teleporter before I do that.”

“If you wear our honey suit, I’ll give you another dollar.”

***
The honey suit was a little sticky, but the Queen was a delight. We prattled on fer hours, her tellin’ me about how she took over the colony in an armed coup, an’ me tellin’ her ’bout me psychic piracy. Turns out me companion the ambassador was one o’ the Queen’s top drones, scouting out potential colonies and signing treaties with neighboring species.

“Oh Captain, you simply must try these aphids!” said the Queen of all Ants.

“No thanks, milady. It’s been fun gettin’ together with ye guys, but I gotta get back to port an’ buy another ship with the countless booty I made here.”

“You mean the dollar I just gave you?” piqued the ambassador.

“No, ye fool!” I screamed, causing the party to grind to a halt. I walked up to the man an’ looked up right into ’is bug eyes. “The two dollars ye gave me. Remember, I be the last survivin’ crew member; all me shipmates’ shares o’ the first dollar ye gave me is mine now!”

We all had a good laugh over that for a few minutes. Then the royal guards showed me to the teleporter room. I waved good-bye to the Queen and ambassador, and with a shimmerin’ glow an’ a high-pitched chirp, I was gone.

***
Using me two dollars as seed money, I managed to commission the construction of the Sand Reaver II, and pay off several of me outstanding tabs at the Salty Psyche. Yup, it be all thanks to the two dollars me old friend the ambassador gave me...


And all the treasure I plundered from Phylogenua. What? I’m a pirate!

Processing 22×100 Robo-Comments:

Blogger Roboshrub Incorporated gesticulated...

Interesting Fact:

Phylogenua was first discovered by Robodyssyus, on his epic adventures through space. It was ten thousand years before his voyages led him back home to his best friend, Kenny Madrigal. Thankfully, time travel was involved, so Kenny had just returned from the bathroom.

4/17/2006 12:51 AM  
Blogger That's Mr. McDougal, to you, punk gesticulated...

Holy crap ... you dudes are some motherfucking pros up in here. I get all embarrassed when I come in the door like ...

What? It's a door. I meant metaphorically. Like when I click that button, it's like I open a door and walk in here.

Well, that's the way the children talk.

Are you typing this?

Why must you type every word I say. yes, I know that was the instructions I gave you, but that's not what I meant.

I meant you should type my intent and not what I say.

You'll know my intent because I'll tell you what it is. This ... this is idle banter and no one wants to read it.

Tell them that thing about how I like their blog because they look like they know what the fuck they're doing.

No, don't say it like that.

Act like you're me talking.

Typing.

You know damn good and well what I mean.

And I am talking. You're typing.

So type what I say.

No - not that. Everything but that.

I give up.

Take your goddamn pants off and get over here.

Oh, God. Did you type that too?

(As dictated to Red Cross Volunteer Anne Marie)

4/17/2006 1:51 PM  
Blogger Gyrobo gesticulated...

I would expect nothing less than pure genius from the great Mr. McDougal. He can see into the past, your know, but not the future; only the pirates can do that.

4/17/2006 2:02 PM  
Blogger Bathroom Hippo gesticulated...



Yar. That be quite a story ye be tellin'.

Swashbuckler!

4/17/2006 2:28 PM  
Blogger Metapirate gesticulated...

Swashbucklin' is on'y phase 2 of metapirate training.

To become a true metapirate, ye must use the force.

Brute force.

4/17/2006 2:54 PM  
Blogger ticharu gesticulated...

That t'wer a jolly tale thar Gyro matey and now you must sell your soul to Disney and they will control every aspect of your life for the rest of time and longer.
They will 'improve' your ideas and the shareholders will wear fur! And children everywhere will buy plastic Gyrobo action figures from the burger joint with the evil cancer clown.
You must be very happy!

4/17/2006 7:11 PM  
Blogger Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator gesticulated...

Man, you were had. You probably could've gotten 4 or 5 bucks for your great journey.

4/17/2006 7:26 PM  
Blogger flu gesticulated...

...maybe it ain't me pappy's voyage, but it is reminiscent of me mammy's cold, lumpy oatmeal.

that has to count for something, right?

4/17/2006 8:15 PM  
Blogger flatlander gesticulated...

Ok, I love these little teaser stories, but I'm ready to subscribe.

My Paypal account is: ******************

Now, show me the time-shift codes!

4/17/2006 8:15 PM  
Blogger Private Hudson gesticulated...

Giant bugs? Oh man, i hate giant bugs! Game over, man!

4/17/2006 8:22 PM  
Blogger Rick Anonymi gesticulated...

In the future I visited last week, the Ants had already taken the eastern seaboard and were marching on Mexico City, which in the future will be the most important human city.

4/17/2006 8:54 PM  
Blogger Lee Ann gesticulated...

Gyro, I don't like bugs! 8|

4/17/2006 10:51 PM  
Blogger Salbert gesticulated...

Here at Sal & Company Ltd., we could use a pirate, and I hear you're better than Orlando Bloom. So Meta Pirate, I was wondering if you would like to be sponsored by Sal & Company on ypur pillages? Is it Deal or No Deal?

4/18/2006 6:35 AM  
Blogger Metapirate gesticulated...

My psychic powers are not for sale. Therefore, I accept any paying job that requires me to receive gold.

Reverse physics rocks!

4/18/2006 10:26 AM  
Blogger L>T gesticulated...

Pirates get a bad rap, usally... Except in romance novels where they have flowing locks of hair & wear those frilly white shirts open to their hairy navels. Their rock hard sabre in their pants &...

I love a story with a happy ending.

4/18/2006 5:17 PM  
Blogger Metapirate gesticulated...

Yaaaaarrrrr!

4/18/2006 5:45 PM  
Blogger sabatkes gesticulated...

I want my Gyrobo happy meal toy! I want #258 Metapirate (out of 666 toys).Tich better buy me one dammit!

4/18/2006 11:02 PM  
Blogger Gyrobo gesticulated...

Those toys were banned because one stupid kid in Iowa ate one and mutated into a bird-like monster.

And they were really fun, too!

4/18/2006 11:14 PM  
Blogger Private Hudson gesticulated...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

4/19/2006 8:57 AM  
Blogger Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator gesticulated...

Gyrobo, your random array fix on for my description didn't work on mine and I had to put it back the way it was. Thank you for your attempt, but I think that I'm going to request my new random blurbs back.

4/19/2006 8:58 AM  
Blogger Gyrobo gesticulated...

DOES NOT COMPUTE!!1

4/19/2006 9:10 AM  
Blogger Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator gesticulated...

Wait, it works now!

You may take my blurbs, Gyrobo, but please, leave my soul.

4/19/2006 9:37 AM