Splitsider

Monday, July 22nd, 2013

Dumb Ass Robot, by Noell Wolfgram Evans

Hands down, this has to be the stupidest robot I have ever seen, just sitting there with that dumb look on his face. “What are you smiling at?!” I yell at him sometimes, but he doesn’t answer, he just keeps sitting there. With that one light flashing.

For the first couple of days, right after I got him, I was like, this is really cool, a robot. I tried to get him to do all kinds of robot stuff but there was nothing to that. Like the first day I got him was the day after the weekend when Luke and I had that big fight because his fence got in the way of my four-wheeler. So as soon as I opened that robot box up and saw him inside I knew exactly what I was gonna do. I got him all unpacked and walked him right over to Luke’s house and then I called Luke outside. It was the afternoon and that guy comes out wearing his robe still and carrying a beer and the beer wasn’t even in a koozie (that’s the kind of hillbilly he is). I say “Hey Luke,” and he goes, “Hey,” and I go, “This is for the other day,” and before he can answer I hit a button on the robot and yell “Robot! Laser!” But nothing happened. I hit the button again. The robot just swayed back and forth like he was doing some stupid robot dance. But it wasn’t “The Robot” which didn’t make any sense. Luckily there were still some pine cones on the ground so I grabbed one and threw it at Luke and then drug the damn heavy robot home.

What kind of robot doesn’t have lasers? I mean, this is America, right?

I was so disappointed but then I start thinking that there are usually two kinds of robots, the ones with lasers and the ones that do stuff. So I figure I must have the kind that does stuff. Off I take him into the kitchen and this was perfect timing because the dishwasher wasn’t working (my wife had gone off to visit her mother). So I set that robot in front of the sink and pointed and of course he just stands there. “What,” I say, “you afraid to get your hands dirty?” and I put my hands in the water and showed him what to do, cause I figure maybe you gotta train ‘em a little like a dog, or an older cello player. So I get in there and wash about half of those dishes and that stupid robot is still just standing there. I’m doing all of the work, like I’m the robot. I think I even said that to him, “Who’s the robot here?” Nothing. I tried to get him to use the vacuum, pick up the laundry, and even get up in the chimney and get the squirrel nest out cause I was hungry. But do you know what he did? You know what he did. Nothing.

Suddenly it hits me—I didn’t even order no robot. So now I’m here with this dumb-ass robot that I didn’t even want, and that I have to $10 a week for which is a real rip, especially since it doesn’t even do any cool robot stuff.

All I know is I’ve got this robot now that apparently can only sway from side to side. So it just sits on my couch and sometimes I’ll put a T-shirt on it, like a concert T-shirt, or the one that says "FBI" in big letters and underneath "Female Body Inspector" and my friends will come over and say, “That is one funny robot,” and I’ll be like ,“And lazy, too.”

 

Noell Wolfgram Evans, the owner of a couple of Thurber Treat awards for humor writing, is a writer and playwright whose work has been produced on stages across the country. Consider this your invitation to follow him on Twitter.

The Humor Section features a piece of original humor writing each week. To submit, send an email to Brian Boone.

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