نازخاتون
11th October 2010, 02:35 PM
A Democratic, Interactive Christmas Carol
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring, excepting of course for the Power Overkill Warrior Ninja Robot 3000, also known as the Powner 3000, who had come to exact it’s vengeance on it’s arch nemesis: a six year old boy named Toby.
Powner 3000 was well prepared for the upcoming battle as is becoming for a ninja robot. It entered the lair of its enemy through the chimney that had unwisely been left open to welcome the illusive Santa Claus, who, in the informed opinion of the killer robot, was unlikely to show. Powner 3000 had brought with it the Boy-Killer 900 C poison-dart rail/chain-gun, the toddler-slicer XM6 Lazer-blade (in case there was going to be trouble from Toby’s younger sister Emmy) and the subsonic, nuclear, bio-warfare, brat-seeker missile known simply as The Overkill. Toby was, on the other hand, quite a lot less prepared. He was armed only with his blue and white bear-themed jammies, his rather worn-down teddy-bear named Roxie (missing one eye) and sheer ignorance.
The reason for this upcoming, seemingly unnecessary match of deadly combat was an event that had taken place almost exactly a year before when Toby had received Powner’s childhood friend, the remote controlled toy-car named Herpie (spelled with a p as to not get into any sort of copyright dispute, of course), as a Christmas present from his mom and dad. Toby loved Herpie, don’t get me wrong, he went into the relationship with Herpie with all the best intentions. But alas, Toby’s good intentions were not matched by his motor skills, which could best be described as lacking. Therefore Herpie lasted but a night in the care of five year old Toby before taking a reluctant plummet to its death from the top of the master stairwell. Toby was at the time heartbroken, but only for a couple of hours, as is typical for his age. He soon found as much enjoyment in the large, shiny cardboard box, that had served as the last peaceful home of now deceased Herpie, as he ever did in Herpie himself. This was a fact that Powner 3000 found particularly despicable.
So, Powner had now come to deal out a little justice in the name of all the broken toys that have been lost over the years to the ignorant malice of six year old boys. But would the well-prepared tactics of Powner 3000 be enough to overcome the ignorance of Toby, The Oblivious Malice of Things That Can Be Broken?
(The following end to the story follows a democratic decision from the readers of this blog in the Christmas of 2009 and is fully beyond my responsibility. It tries to the best of my ability to accommodate as many of my votes as I can as well as capture the true Christmas spirit).
Powner 3000 landed silently in the living room, feeling the tension of the silent winter night as ominously as the smell of coming battle that hang crushingly in the air. Or was it the smell of brownies in the air? He looked around – it was brownies; put out with a glass of milk on a small table. Left there for that overweight illusion of Christmas joy that was Santa Claus. Where had the fat man been when poor Herpie fell to his demise, Powner thought. Where was the Christmas spirit then? Powner ate the cookies and drank the milk as a mocking gesture, even though robots really shouldn’t be able to either mock or drink milk, but that is what vengefulness will do to you.
In his room, Toby was sleeping surprisingly loudly. Powner could hear him all the way from the bottom of the staircase. The robot leapt from step to step with the elegance of a tiger and the dedication of an insurance salesman. As he reached the top, he squeezed through the bars of a toddler-gate placed at the top of the stairs and immediately felt the presence of his enemy in the air. Toby was in his bed only few yards down the hallway, sweating and sucking his thumb. Powner took the time to pause by the top of those damned stairs and pray silently in reverence of the lost Herpie. He shouldn’t have done that. Just as he was caught up in prayer, completely oblivious of his surroundings, he felt the clammy hand of death upon him – or more precisely: the clammy, almost slimy hand of a toddler reach out and grab him from behind. It was Emmy the Toddler!
She gripped Powner tightly as he was trying to reach the Toddler-slicer but couldn’t. What was she doing out of her crib in the middle of the night? Why was she roaming the halls? Powner had little time to contemplate these issues as Emmy lifted him up and with a sound beyond horrible (or more accurately similar to: “Aaamugabuuu”) and tried to bite his head off.
.
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring, excepting of course for the Power Overkill Warrior Ninja Robot 3000, also known as the Powner 3000, who had come to exact it’s vengeance on it’s arch nemesis: a six year old boy named Toby.
Powner 3000 was well prepared for the upcoming battle as is becoming for a ninja robot. It entered the lair of its enemy through the chimney that had unwisely been left open to welcome the illusive Santa Claus, who, in the informed opinion of the killer robot, was unlikely to show. Powner 3000 had brought with it the Boy-Killer 900 C poison-dart rail/chain-gun, the toddler-slicer XM6 Lazer-blade (in case there was going to be trouble from Toby’s younger sister Emmy) and the subsonic, nuclear, bio-warfare, brat-seeker missile known simply as The Overkill. Toby was, on the other hand, quite a lot less prepared. He was armed only with his blue and white bear-themed jammies, his rather worn-down teddy-bear named Roxie (missing one eye) and sheer ignorance.
The reason for this upcoming, seemingly unnecessary match of deadly combat was an event that had taken place almost exactly a year before when Toby had received Powner’s childhood friend, the remote controlled toy-car named Herpie (spelled with a p as to not get into any sort of copyright dispute, of course), as a Christmas present from his mom and dad. Toby loved Herpie, don’t get me wrong, he went into the relationship with Herpie with all the best intentions. But alas, Toby’s good intentions were not matched by his motor skills, which could best be described as lacking. Therefore Herpie lasted but a night in the care of five year old Toby before taking a reluctant plummet to its death from the top of the master stairwell. Toby was at the time heartbroken, but only for a couple of hours, as is typical for his age. He soon found as much enjoyment in the large, shiny cardboard box, that had served as the last peaceful home of now deceased Herpie, as he ever did in Herpie himself. This was a fact that Powner 3000 found particularly despicable.
So, Powner had now come to deal out a little justice in the name of all the broken toys that have been lost over the years to the ignorant malice of six year old boys. But would the well-prepared tactics of Powner 3000 be enough to overcome the ignorance of Toby, The Oblivious Malice of Things That Can Be Broken?
(The following end to the story follows a democratic decision from the readers of this blog in the Christmas of 2009 and is fully beyond my responsibility. It tries to the best of my ability to accommodate as many of my votes as I can as well as capture the true Christmas spirit).
Powner 3000 landed silently in the living room, feeling the tension of the silent winter night as ominously as the smell of coming battle that hang crushingly in the air. Or was it the smell of brownies in the air? He looked around – it was brownies; put out with a glass of milk on a small table. Left there for that overweight illusion of Christmas joy that was Santa Claus. Where had the fat man been when poor Herpie fell to his demise, Powner thought. Where was the Christmas spirit then? Powner ate the cookies and drank the milk as a mocking gesture, even though robots really shouldn’t be able to either mock or drink milk, but that is what vengefulness will do to you.
In his room, Toby was sleeping surprisingly loudly. Powner could hear him all the way from the bottom of the staircase. The robot leapt from step to step with the elegance of a tiger and the dedication of an insurance salesman. As he reached the top, he squeezed through the bars of a toddler-gate placed at the top of the stairs and immediately felt the presence of his enemy in the air. Toby was in his bed only few yards down the hallway, sweating and sucking his thumb. Powner took the time to pause by the top of those damned stairs and pray silently in reverence of the lost Herpie. He shouldn’t have done that. Just as he was caught up in prayer, completely oblivious of his surroundings, he felt the clammy hand of death upon him – or more precisely: the clammy, almost slimy hand of a toddler reach out and grab him from behind. It was Emmy the Toddler!
She gripped Powner tightly as he was trying to reach the Toddler-slicer but couldn’t. What was she doing out of her crib in the middle of the night? Why was she roaming the halls? Powner had little time to contemplate these issues as Emmy lifted him up and with a sound beyond horrible (or more accurately similar to: “Aaamugabuuu”) and tried to bite his head off.
.