[AN: This is bonus content for giggles. Thanks to bee-the-gatekeeper for the idea of the bots versus their human counterparts. And thanks to whoever gave me the idea of switching my wake-up music to One Way Ticket just as I was starting to get tired of Hatch Fever (heresy!). And now I headcannon the bots as Very Annoying Morning People]
4:35 AM
The first light of dawn delicately kissed the horizon. Any minute, now, the Walter Manor Wake-Alarm would sound.
“GOOD MORNING, THE SPINE!”
“GOOD MORNING, RABBIT!”
“GOOD MORNING, HATCHMEISTER!”
“MER-RY BREAK-FAST!”
Ungh…
Walter Worker Sam lurched out of his bunk and zombie-walked all the way to the Big Kitchen.
“GOOD MORNING, W-W-WALTER WORKER SAM!”
“…coffee…” Sam mumbled.
Rabbit seized his hands before they could brush against her boiler vents and waltzed him over to the coffee machine. “D-d-d-don’t get to fresh wit’ her, now,” singsonged Rabbit. “She likes t-t-t-t-to take it slow. And she’s with me.”
“…coffee…” Sam’s hands found the vital ingredients before his brain could warm up to the idea of opening his eyes. Besides, he’d probably left his glasses on their hook again.
“It’s looking like a wonderful day, Mister Luke,” cheered The Spine. He gently folded the non-dairy creamer into Sam’s hands.
“…coffee…”
Hatchworth was singing to himself and preparing the usual feast. At least, a feast for anyone who dared to risk the culinary experiments of a robot who had catered exclusively to spiders for eighty years.
Rabbit was flirting with the coffee machine as it rattled and hissed its way through providing a hot, steaming cup of vital essences.
The Spine harmonized with Hatchy. The words, what he could decipher of them, were nonsense about how wonderful early mornings were.
They must die.
A plate appeared in front of Sam’s nose. “…whut…?”
“I made you some veg-an ba-na-na sur-prise pan-cakes,” said Hatchy.
“…what’s th’ surprise?” Sam asked, sipping his coffee.
“Co-coa nibs.”
He peered myopically at the brown dots. Actual real cocoa nibs. Not anything else that looked like little dark dots.
Sam accepted the plate. “You may live,” he decided.
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