Thomas’s very first run in with The Spine’s sleepy stranglehold
Somewhere in San Diego, there is a mansion with no doors. Well. Technically, it has two, but they’re in nonstandard locations. Theoretically, there is absolutely nothing to stop friend or foe from just wandering in and doing what they pleased.
That is, until you know what Walter Manor contains.
Thomas, a sleek silver robot made in the 1990’s, had no idea what he was getting into when he wandered inside the gothic edifice to surprise the silver robot made in the 1890’s. Better known to all as The Spine.
Almost immediately, he found a conga party containing, amongst other outlandish impossibilities, a monster, a small metal giraffe, and some… thing… with black-and-white markings and impossible eyelashes.
Rabbit was in the lead.
“Hey hey it’s c-c-c-c-captain sparkle pants!”
“Er,” said the French robot. “Où est la Spine?”
“He just had a tune-up,” Rabbit sang, dancing to the rhythm. “He’s nap-pin’ in the li-b'ry.”
“Merci,” Thomas moved away from the impromptu party, but not before someone - or something - added a sombrero to his polished head.
It was telling that he was getting used to these levels of nonsense.
The library, like everything else in Walter Manor, was immense. A time and space-bending labyrinth of shelves, reading nooks and… yes!
One slumbering The Spine draped quasi-artistically across a chaise lounge.
Sparkling and looking good as new.
Thomas nudged him. “Mon antique…” he cooed. “Surpristé…”
The Spine mumbled something unintelligible, but did not rise from his stupor.
Evidently, the Walter technicians had rearranged his workings and, metaphorically speaking, taken a lot out of him. Thomas moved some lanky kegs out of his way and sat beside him.
Then he made the mistake of draping The sleeping Spine’s arm across his shoulders.
“Mnnnnff…” The Spine complained and dragged Thomas wholesale into a tight and slightly uncomfortable embrace.
An also unbreakable embrace.
An inescapable embrace.
“Dieu…” Thomas muttered. The sombrero fell to the floor. He supposed it was only a matter of time before someone checked in on them.
Any minute, now. Someone would come in and press a few buttons.
Any minute…. now.
*
Hours had passed. The only thing that had happened so far was The Spine shifting himself about to get more comfortable. But not to make Thomas more comfortable.
Thomas drummed his fingers against The Spine’s encompassing and immobile arm. “Anybody?” he tried once more. “M'aidez?”
“Sweet! Free sombrero!”
It was the little yarn doppelgänger of Steve Negrete, part-time Dragon.
“Aide, peu Steve, je suis pris au piège!”
“Sorry, dude. No parlay Frenchie.” The yarn doll got himself under the sombrero and scurried away with it.
Thomas sighed and went back to drumming his fingers.
Worst. Date. Ever.
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