Othello

I can't believe these assholes are marching so fast, I'm not made for this. Uggh, why why WHY did I sell that transport-bot? "You need more exercise, Ebbra!" Fuck that Fitness-O-Matic, I should have scrapped him months ago. We're making good progress towards Othello, but I'm just not really sure why we are going there. I have to face it, I'm out of my depth. I need these people to survive. Without my bots, I'd be dead in seconds out here alone. These dicks are my best hope right now of staying alive another day. If going to Othello is where they are going, I guess I'm going with them. They seem to want me around, for now.

....

So coming to Othello might have been a mistake. All the people here are GHOULS. Did the group mention this already? I must have missed it. They seem pretty civilized though and ghouls need robots and mechanical repair as much as humans, right?

...

What hippie bullshit is this? We have to vouch for each other, recount our worth to be judged by some walking corpse? If I had Mechafusionator 3000 still I'd show these fuckers my worth.

It's possible I'm totally screwed here, though. What have I done? What has my worth been? I've been a burden, an unconscious consumer of supplies. The kids have been more useful than me. I might be on my own here.

...

HA! They actually came up with some shit to tell and the corpses bought it. BOUGHT IT. Whew, dodged a bullet there. These people really are some saps and it looks like they can be my meal ticket until I get back on my feet. Maybe I can get the Edith-bot to be back in my inventory again. I'll have to think on it.

...

This town is interesting. Pretty well put together. All ghouls though, so that's pretty nasty. There is a Lep-re-kon mart here (which the ghouls have humorously renamed the Leper-re-kon), an old university or school complex and also some old-world hospital still in use. It's almost a little slice of civilization here. Except for all the ghouls, of course. I could make a killing here if I had some product to move.

...

Looks like some of my compatriots were tossed out of the hospital. And they ruined some garden. What buffoons. Most of them have been huddled up and talking about some upcoming race. A race?!?! We have fucking bombs strapped to our necks. We need to get these things off not have super-fun happy play time with a bunch of walking corpses. They got the collar off the huge monster that talks good, when is it my turn? MY TURN? Maybe it's time for me to strike out on my own to get this damn thing off.



The previous was an excerpt from a book labelled: "Ebbra's Stay the Fuck Out"