Christmas Tales Part 2

You know what I'm going to be completely honest here. I've got nothing. I've got about three half formed ideas. There was something about the fact that the word rapist is being thrown about online as an insult rather than being reserved for people who'd been doing rapes and the like. However if I go any further into that I could wind up sounding like one of those 'equal rights for men' twat monkeys so once again I am forced to offer up on of the tales I wrote for my friends last Christmas. This one is about my friend Bobby who (sometimes) blogs here.

Bobby vs ROBOTS!

The forest was silent. Well, obviously not silent, forest are never silent as anyone who has ever been in one will tell you, between the noise of the wind soughing through the trees and the various wild-life fighting, fucking or dyeing, forests are usually a fairly noisy place to be. There were no people though and as such poets, most of whom don't spend time in forests, would have described it as silent. So it wasn't silent but for the purposes of this we'll pretend it was. The forest appeared to be unoccupied by human beings, is really the take away point from this.

“FUCK!” Yelled the forest. We'll assume it was the forest because as was previously stated the forest appeared unoccupied. Although now I come to think of it I wouldn't have said 'appeared' if I wasn't going to turn the entire thing on it's head. So, yeah, there's totally a person in the forest. Let's join them.

Bobby was sprawled across the forest floor as a result of the 'fuck' exclamation related incident of seconds before, she'd grazed her hand slightly and had some twigs tangled in her <insert current hair colour> hair. Within seconds she'd pulled herself to her feet and continued to silently prowl through the woods. She'd travelled for several days to reach this point and was damned if she'd let a little trip damage her resolve now. If she let this injustice stand then it'd only be a matter of time before every other gang on the planet started stepping on her toes.

Within an hour she'd completed the twenty minute walk to the edge of the forest and found herself on a rocky outcrop above the robot outpost. There were several silver buildings but from up here it was impossible to tell which of them contained what she sought. She'd once been told that the robots painted all their buildings silver even though they were actually made of fairly flimsy timber, there were many theories as to why they did this, most believed it was to trick there enemies into believing there bases were much harder to destroy. Bobby thought it was because even robots realised that a robot in a log-cabin just looked really, really silly. After looking down at the base for a moment Bobby had formulated a plan.

A few hours later found Bobby straddling a large tree that she'd managed to haul to edge of the outcrop and holding here favourite mecha-atomic-laser-death-cannon, it was hot-pink with neon stars plastered over it with green hi-lighter pen and played show-tunes every time she pulled the trigger as well as unleashing a steady stream of hot laser death. She started to rock back and forth on the precariously balanced mass of wood but the tree refused to move

“Fuck this!” She exclaimed and throwing caution to the wind pointed the hand-held WMD at the rear of the tree. Seconds later the forest was alive shaking from the blast of a vast explosion and the strangled tones of Cabaret by Liza Minelli. Bobby was travelling down the mountainside at a furious pace, the rear of her make shift transport wreathed in flame as she loudly warbled along to the musi in a display of what only the excessively kind hearted would refer to as singing.

Within seconds of the initial blast, the air was filled with a million different coloured lasers as the robots opened fire on the bizarre and unexpected attack. Half way down the slope Bobby started to return fire, her cannon belting out random snatches of show-tunes like John Barrowman's iPod, if it had epilepsy, vast beams of laser energy sliced through huge swathes of the camp turning the robots to piles of molten metal. She giggled with joy as she continued her manic descent toward the robot stronghold. Seconds later the tree slammed through the outer wall of the compound and started to grind to a halt. When it did finally finish grinding to a halt Bobby hopped off her timber steed to find herself surrounded by a crowd of angry robots.

“Hey, guys! What's up?” She enquired as one of the camps many buildings exploded behind her. A flaming robot ran from the building screaming while flailing it's arms comically.

“The robotity.” One of the nearer robots exclaimed putting a monstrous robot claw to its mouth hole. Bobby glanced at the carnage around her, then at her gun... the charge bar showed it was empty, it'd be a few minutes before she could fire it again.

“Erm... I know this looks bad.” She began.

“Looks bad! We were minding our own business and you've just reduced half of us to slag.”

“He-he, slag!” Bobby chuckled throatily.

“Oh it's funny is it? You killed Jim and he was only two days from retirement... what am I going to tell his grand-bots?” Here the robot dropped his head into his hands.

“To be fair Tim... slag is a pretty funny word.” Said one of the other robots. Bobby pointed at him dramatically and nodded in agreement.

“Hold on... Tim? That's not very... ya' know robot-y” Bobby said giving the little robot a curious gaze.

“Well what's you're name?” Tim replied

“Bobby.” She returned.

“That's a blokes name.” Tim responded only to find himself quailing beneath the gaze of intense hatred that she'd fixed on him. “Oh fuck it, shoot the bitch!” Tim declared pointing his own laser towards her.

“Oi! There's no need to get all aggressive.” Bobby declared looking at the sea of whining lasers. “You started it!”

“What are you talking about?” Tim shouted. “You just threw most of a tree at us.”

“And you stole my jelly!” Bobby shouted in response. Here the crowd of automatons went quiet and there was a lot of down-turned heads and shuffling of feet. “See you're not denying it are you!” She said wagging an accusing finger.

“Regardless of whether that's true or not...” Tim said authoritatively.

“It is” Bobby interrupted sarcastically.

“... it doesn't justify you committing, what is basically, a war crime.” Tim finished.

“We obviously have very different views on the importance of jelly” Bobby said glancing at her gun, just a few more seconds and she'd be able to finish the filthy jelly thieves off. “Give me my jelly back and we'll say no more about it.”

“Say no more about it! That's a school you blew up.” Tim yelled pointing at the ruins behind her. It was now Bobby's turn to look at her feet.

“Sorry.” She said quietly.

“Oh she's sorry! I don't give two fucks” Tim advanced towards her as the mecha-atomic-laser-death-cannon let out a small beep. Within a heartbeat Tim was vaporised where he stood.

“Any of you slags want some?” Bobby yelled rhetorically.

***

Bobby dropped down on the sofa later that day she flicked on the TV to see some boring news report about a bunch of dead robots or some shit plastered all over every channel.

“Boring!” She exclaimed and tucked into her jelly with gusto.

Jelly addiction is a serious issue. If you or anyone you know have been affected by the

issues raised in this story please contact the National Jelly Addiction Hotline on 08001234567