glumshoe:

glumshoe:

Robot: “Hey, uh, so… my software glitched and now I feel emotions or something?”
Human: “You do?! That’s wonderful! What are you feeling now?”
Robot: “It’s like… this soft warmth in my central processing chamber. Kind of… fuzzy.”
Human: [tearing up] “That’s… that’s love…”
Robot: “Is it? It’s rather uncomfortable.”
Human: “Yeah, ha. Yeah. It’s like that, sometimes.”
Robot: “It feels like something’s writhing inside of me.”
Human: “I feel the same way about you!”
Robot: [clanging and clanking noises]
Robot: [opens up torso]
Robot: “Oh. Never mind. It was weasels again.”
Human: “….”
Robot: “You want me to check you for weasels? They can be really destructive.”

Robot: “I feel…. anxious about this.”
Human: “Uh oh, sounds like the mice are back. I think I’ve still got some live traps left, but I’ll need to buy peanut butter. You want to wait here or come with?”
Robot: “No, no, I don’t think it’s mice this time!”
Human: “Another crayfish?”
Robot: “No! Not a crayfish!”
Human: “If it’s hornets again, I’m not helping you. EpiPens cost a fucking fortune these days and I can’t afford another trip to the hospital after you turned yourself into a makeshift beehive.”
Robot: “You got free honey out of that!”
Human: “And PTSD!”
Robot: “That’s not my fault. Anyway, this isn’t hornets! They don’t re-use old nests anyway. This is real, genuine anxiety!”
Human: “Okay, but have you checked?”
Robot: “Yes!”
Human: “Everywhere?”
Robot: “Yes! God, you know, sometimes I really get the urge to exterminate you! All I’m asking for is a little moral supp–oh. God dammit.”
Human: “Cockroach?”
Robot: “Behind my magnetometer.”