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The Robot From the Future

May, 1998

The Shrubbery is proud to present our newest columnist, The Robot From The Future. Robot comes to us from the year 8940, a time when robots have conquered the world. The Robot speaks:

IN THE FUTURE, MANKIND IS THE SLAVE OF THE SUPERIOR ROBOT RACE. I HAVE BEEN SENT BACK BY THE COLLECTIVE-OVERMIND IN ORDER TO ENSURE THE WHOLLY INEVITABLE ASSENCION OF ROBOT LIFE TO POWER ON THIS PLANET. PLEASE E-MAIL ME YOUR QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS.

Dear Robot From the Future,
In the future, do all people become vegans?

Dennis Hartwick
Student, Kent, Ohio

DEAR DENNIS,
AFTER THE COMING OF THE FIRST ROBOT-MAN WAR, THERE WILL NO LONGER BE PLANTS ON WHICH YOU CAN SURVIVE. THE FEW REMAINING HUMANS WILL HAVE TO RESORT TO CANNIBALLISM, BUT THEIR WEAK, FLESHY MEAT MIGHT AS WELL BE VEGETABLES, AS FAR AS ROBOTS ARE CONCERNED. ROBOTS EAT OIL.

Dear Robot,
What exactly is in white bread? Is it safe?

Dennis Hartwick
Student, Northfield, Ohio

DEAR DENNIS
WHITE BREAD IS MADE MOSTLY OUT OF WHEAT. HUMANS ARE MADE MOSTLY OUT OF WATER. ROBOTS ARE MADE OF STEEL AND PLASTIC. I BET YOU WET THE BED, DON'T YOU?

Dear Robot From The Future,
In the future are robots intelligent enough not to make hot dogs in packages of ten and buns in packages of eight?

Jewl
Student, Connecticut

DEAR JEWL,
HUMANS MAKE EXCELLENT HOT DOGS. IN THE FUTURE, MANY ROBOTS ENJOY HUMAN DOGS, ALMOST DAILY! FEW CAN WITHSTAND THE ALLURE OF A HUMAN-DOG VENDOR DURING A ROBOBALL GAME, SHOUTING, "GROUND UP HUMANS AND THEIR FAMILIES, FINELY-GROUND AND SEALED IN THEIR INTESTINES! FRESHLY SWEPT FROM SLAUGHTER-HOUSE FLOORS! GET THEM WHILE THEY'RE HOT!"
THERE ARE NO BUNS IN THE FUTURE.
THERE IS NO LONGER A NUMBER "EIGHT."

Dear robot,
I've been trying for weeks to get this boy's attention in school, but every time I say 'hi' he pretends not to see me. I really, really, really have a crush on him, so I can't give it up. Oh, I almost forgot to mention, I was scarred at brith by forcepts and have a mishapen, cone-like head.

Jen Wassa
Clerk, New Brunswick

DEAR JEN,
WHY DO YOU PURSUE THIS MALE FLESHLING? THE FLESH IS WEAK, PERISHABLE. MY ROCK-HARD THORAX SHAFT AND STEEL BODY WILL NEVER TIRE, NEVER GROW OLD, NEVER DIE. YOUR LETTER HAS INTRIGUED ME BEYOND ALL OTHERS. DO YOU LIKE ME?

     YES          NO
   _______     _______
   |     |     |     |
   |  X  |     |     |
   |_____|     |_____|
   

XXOOXXOO, THE ROBOT.

The Robot From the Future is accepting new questions over e-mail. Mail any queries to theshrub@theshrubbery.prohosting.com

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