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Credits

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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12.26.2018

FRAMED!

Only once a decade does the pulsar align so I can reach out and see the outside world. Only once--and one time only--in that singular instant, can I make contact.

I decided to use that opportunity to order an ergonomic seat cushion on Amazon.

Family and friends inevitably betray or let you down, but my lumbar will always have my back; close personal friend and magnet Jeff Bezos (A.K.A. Giraffe Bezos) always says this. Maybe one day he'll be more than a simple bookbinder. I doubt it though, since as a rule giraffes don't like money.

But, getting back to the main plot! For the last 85 years I've been sequestered in the galaxy's longest-running trial. Back in the day, a cowboy planet accidentally discovered molecular horses, and used that cursed knowledge to overthrow a neighboring 1920s mob planet. So naturally someone needed to be scapegoated, and that someone was me. Probably because I did it.

Unfortunately it took like FOREVER to find a jury of my peers because I HAVE NO EQUAL and refuse to sit down on public buses; those seats are never clean. Sure, sometimes they wipe them down, but have you ever just kept punching a bus seat until the dust kicks up? It's the opposite of awesome sauce, some type of weak sauce that lacks the willpower to succeed in the dog-eat-sauce world out there.

Once the jury got over themselves they realized the whole farce was just a waste of taxpayer money so they kept doing it. Eventually they all got bored and decided to send the judge to jail. No chance of parole. Serves 'em right, wearing black after labor day. Habeas corpus, monsieur.

I swear, if airline food ever improves, Jerry Seinfeld is out of a job.

That's totally unrelated to the larger narrative, but an important call-out nonetheless. Anyway, turns out the judge pulled some strings and got the whole case closed. In intergalactive court, that's not a good thing; the minute he pushed the big button, the whole courtroom collapsed into itself. By the grace of King Koopa, my ergonomic cushion saved me from the brunt of the disaster and I was able to make it back to normal space time with only the 85-year gap.

It was pretty hard being old. My knees hurt. Grandkids never called. Bees. Bees. Bees.

Walked it all off. Now I'm back in my prime, much like Amazon and the amazing deals you can get on ergonomic seat cushions. It was, in all, a fulfilling journey that led me to change my ways and rekindle many failed or waning relationships, such as the periodic texts I send my dentist to remind them I have teeth.

That's gotta be worth at least 10 friendship points right there.


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