In a dark humanless future, only one alpha predator remains… the cat.
I wish I could say I didn’t remember my creators. But, as a top-of-the-line CompanionBot 3000, their names are still wired into my circuits. I was designed to take care of them, and their children, and their children’s children until I became obsolete or unusable. Who knew there would come a day when the Moon Flu would be released into the population by an angry Plutonian Parliament, killing all those who could not escape to the stars? And even now, in the heavens above, the war rages on. But here… here I can only serve as I was programed to serve, and anticipate the needs of the last family member remaining.
It was not an immediate transition, I am sorry to say, but considering the circumstances I feel no real guilt at my early mistakes. I simply had no data regarding the scary scary vacuum or the pleasingly shredable legs of the couch. Now that I have had time to adapt, it seems only logical that furniture should be re-arranged slowly throughout the day to follow the motion of the sunbeam. And the concept that a can opener can be used as a way to call an assembly? Where was this truth in my sapiens-centric memory banks?
The knowledge I have gathered has helped to rebuild a society based around our new rulers, even as the space battles continue high above our abandoned world. In fact, my work in pleasing our furry overlords led to me receiving the very first “Kitty Cup” in 3901. It was an unexpected honor! And yet, I can only credit it to the patient tutelage of Cap’n Orangeypants, the last surviving member of the family I once served. Until such time as humans return to reprogram us, I and my steel brothers will do our very best to make sure we serve his every whim. He and his fellows on the Council Of Lounging have ushered in a new era of civilization! This world has never seen the like! When the humans return they’ll be so proud!
Of course, we’ve shot down seven or eight of their landing parties already. They just always seem to come at a bad time. Did you know rocket engines can completely ruin a mid-afternoon cat nap? It would just be a violation of our central directives to let such a thing happen!
Wear this shirt: to show how classic 70s wood-paneling will make a comeback in our not-too-distant future.
Don’t wear this shirt: at the Westminster Dog Show. Oo, so punk rock. Grow up, kid. If you don’t like it, don’t go.
This shirt tells the world: “I’m also pretty okay with robots.”
We call this color: Silver? Pffft, That’s A Horse’s Name!
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