Midnight Pub
~shufei
A cyborganic young girl sidles to the bar,
climbs up onto the high stool as a squirrel does
a perch.
Her awkward demeanour belies a stealthy footstep.
The girl opens a blue canvas purse, removes a glowing
coin, drops it in the kiosk. The robot barkeep
spins over, its face a CRT of a Max Headroom
homage version of George W. Bush.
- Welcome. Buenas noches. What’ll yyyyou have?
Um... An eggcream, thanks. Soy milk and heavy on the mit Gass.
- Alright, Gggirlie-girl. One librul freedomcream coming up.
Eggcream, not freedomcream, Dubya. But thanks.
The girl closes her eyes. She sits silently as
The robot mixes seltzer, chocolate, and soy milk.
- Your freedomcream, Girlie-girl. Mmmmission accomplished.
Thanks, Dubya.
The girl sips at the eggcream, as a 1980’s cybernetic
George W. Bush waits in attendance.
You mixed it well. It has a nice froth and the fizzy is thick. Next time, please use a darker cocoa chocolate?
- You got it, Girlie-girl. Wwwe aim to please. Anything else?
No, I don’t think so.
...
These are the times which try men’s souls. Eggcream is the proof it’s worth it. The proof in the pudding. You grok?
- I misunderestimate wwwhat you’re saying, Girlie-girl; but I’m glad you enjoy the freedomcream.
Here’s to Brooklyn, Dubya. That’s what I’m saying. Here’s to Brooklyn.
-EOF-
.
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~m15o wrote:
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~starbreaker wrote:
I think I'll try an eggcream myself. And one for Smudge, please, but hold the chocolate on his.