almost fake tales

fabulous come back

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 11:36:00 +0000

of the distinguished award winning author Joseph Strabraindead.

One of the world's most famous novelists, author of Completely everything there is to know about everything exclusively completely in this book, pleasantly surprised journalists and people alike yesterday when he announced that the second book of the cycle was coming out.

fake rumors, again

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 09:19:00 +0000

we must admit our failure in making the core deambobinator express intelligent thoughts where there are not any. sorry kids!

tooth drama

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 08:39:00 +0000

previously on little girls and robots: one, two, three, four, five

Little girl: God, my tooth fell off.

Robot: So young, and already decaying?

Little girl: Oh no, it's normal. anthropologically speaking...

Robot: Booorrring!

Little girl: And then there's the Tooth Fairy. She picks up your fallen teeth from under your pillow, and gives you treasure or candy or something like that.

Robot: And you honestly believe that kind of sh**?

Little girl: Oh, no. But I can't let my mom know. She'd be devastated.

rumors

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 08:35:00 +0000

have been going about that the core deambobinator has fluffy bunny ears. we firmly deny any rumor of that sort, as any leak of information might change the face of the earth as we know it.
just imagine it into the wrong hands...people might actually be true to each other. and where would we be then?

little...you know what i mean

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 21:58:00 +0000

previously on little girls and robots: one, two, three, four

Robot: woah!, I just had a shortcircuit...

Little girl: But you don't have any hair!

Robot: Err... a shortcircuit.

Little girl: Is that like a shortcut?

Robot: Not really.

Little girl: Are there longcircuits?

Robot: No, just short.

Little girl: Is it like an orgasm then?

the true story

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 18:01:00 +0000

which goes on in a conversation is rather different than the one we normally observe.
In order to prove this point, we have installed a core deambobinator (see illustration below) under a restaurant table. Let's get closer so you can see what we mean.
Please take note of the deambobinator's recorded speech translated in brackets. (these are brackets: [ and ])

Lady: I'm so glad you were able to join me [I never thought you would accept, I'm sooo happy yay] for dinner.

Man: Oh, nonsense. It's just that lately [what do I say what do I say] things [good, that's good, what now omg] have been hecktic [vague enough, good job!] around here [great!].

Lady: oh, tell me about it! [I've been so busy thinking of you I have sooo much left over work bah who gives a damn when we're finally going to have]

Man: This beef is incredibly well done [just about as tough like a brick wall, great, small talk, that will make the time fly]

Lady: Oh, yes! and the stew is marvelous too [kids, i want twins, definately, good genes here, not to miss]. Go on, try some! [yeeees eat out of my fork yeees]

Man: Oh, I'm full, honestly. [I'm not putting that thing in my mouth no waay] Did I tell you about my job? I'm an accountant. [and yeees, I am going to bore you to death about all the little intricate details]

Lady: How exciting! [well, at least he's good with money. kids need money. I need fur coat] Do tell! [just no maths, pleeease]

Man: Well, our business firm's figures are looking great. [you just don't have any idea what i'm talking about, do you?]I have just done a tri-bi-annual report and the stocks are rising [god, should have said they weren't] dramatically [change change it] but the Pi is very low [good enough].

Lady: Ah, the Pi, everyone likes them high! I'm sorry to hear that.[that means no overtime at work, so more kids!, the lawn, a perfect green gra]

Man: This is life, can't have it all. [and god, is that salad between your teeth?]

Lady: oh, no, of course. [Have me! I want your babies!]

Man: And then there's the parallel Q coefficients. [aww, why Q? she's going to tell, omg]

Lady: Aha, interesting. [love me, now! loooove!]

Man: The important thing is that they stay parallel. [I have no idea what to say now, I'm all out]

Lady: Aha![Looooooooove]

There, now you get the point. wasn't it a really swell thing to discover? [bah, screw you, I don't really care, I'm just doing this to get paid]
Oh, sorry. [how do you turn this #&^&^ thing off?!?!#@$$%]
Small malfunction it seems, I'll get right back to you! [yeah right, and may the dingo eat your babies]

daily dilemmas

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 08:35:00 +0000

previously on little girls and robots: one, two, three

Little girl singing: Ive got to take it on the othersideeeeee.....Take it on the othersideeeeee

Robot: You shouldn't sing those kind of things...

Little girl: why not?

Robot: It's not for little girls.

Little girl: Why not? It's not PG rated or anything.

Robot: But you do know what it is about, right?

Little girl: Yeah, it's this guy who wants to see the grass on the other side, because there's a stupid saying according to which it would be greener, and so better in every aspect.

Robot: Uh, no. You'll see when you're older.

Little girl: Ah, don't give me that "older" stuff. Tell me now!

Robot: I'll just say this: men saying they want to take it on the other side is the reason why most ladies end up alone.

ladies, men

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Mon, 02 Feb 2009 16:19:00 +0000

Lady: A penny for your thoughts!

Man: I'm sorry, I only take cheques.

the little girl and the robot

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Mon, 02 Feb 2009 08:49:00 +0000

previously on little girls and robots: one, two

Little girl: So, what else do you have in that inventory? Do you have a pet?

Robot: What's a pet?

Little girl: It's a small animal you keep locked up lying to yourself that it's in its best interest, feeding him crap and forgetting to clean up the crap it produces, meanwhile torturing it and interpreting its squeaks as happy songs.

Robot: Well, there was this rat once...

Little girl: Really? was it cute? everything is cute when it's still alive!

Robot: Would you like to know the story?

Little girl: ya.

Robot: There was this little rat, cute, I guess. I put it in a box.

Little girl: Sooo? did it make little babies? Did it sleep in your lap? Did it -cuuuuute- eat electrical cables?

Robot: I don't know, it never came back out...

Cucumbers (sept 2003)

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Sun, 01 Feb 2009 12:01:00 +0000

She was crawling slowly on the wall, very bored.

Her thought of leaving remained somewhere down on the floor, next to a murdered hope. There were no cucumbers left, and this caused her a dreadful pain, underneath her fingernails and in her joints. She looked carefully through the wall, to check if there were no cucumbers in reach of her foot. But there were only some flowers that pretended to sleep and an old lady with a big nose, tilted to the right.
She crawled a bit more until she reached the lamp, unscrewed the light bulb to see where she had forgotten her thought. She saw a piece of thought on the floor, something related to calling her mother, sitting behind a box in which cleaning was and, next to it, the thought to leave. She tried to catch him with the help of the thought to go down, but he was small and slippery, because of the saliva. She jumped a bit, trying to budge him from the crack in which he had hidden, because it was a hidden thought.
She picked up a cigarette from the ashtray and lit it. She slowly blew the smoke so she wouldn't make it weary. The smoke, expanding in circles, stuck to the window; it was probably looking for heat to regenerate and make little offspring. It also tried to get back in the cigarette, but there was so little room and it smelled like tobacco. "My ass" said the smoke. And it started to strangle the girl, very slowly; it banged her head on the walls a bit, and the little thought got frightened at the idea that he could loose its home. He quickly made up a sword and a shield and got ready for battle. He was proud because he was fighting for an idea, and not for the sake of the corpses.
"Hey you, smokey! I'm gonna cut you in ways you can't imagine, bless your little circles..."
And he looked at it from above like he was looking through it. The smoke let go of the girl who continued with the choking out of inertia.
And they fought for a day, and they fought for two days, and they fought for ninety-nine days. The little thought came up with something else and finally managed to place the smoke in the cleaning box.
“I knew I fought dirty", he laughed to himself.
He paused, satisfied, and decided to go home because it was Tuesday.
He gave a glutinous kick to the throat, which was already purple from the choking and he invented a door through which he went inside the house.
Because the thought of leaving had come to her, the girl picked up her slippers and went out the window. In five minutes she remembered she was supposed to get out through the door and she came back.
And she went out through the door.

Fritz (revamped from 2001)

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Sat, 31 Jan 2009 16:05:00 +0000

I was born on a dark, gloomy day. Ripped off from my mother's womb, I didn't even get the chance to see her properly.
I was rushed into the emergency lane, altogether with hundreds like me, not very talkative. Of course, I wouldn't remember all of this on my own; a dear friend has helped me with it.
I was punched around into unconsciousness, stretched out, checked for flaws (toes, as you would say), and then stuffed into a cold container, crammed up against another.
I don't recall how long we stood there. Around me, a rainbow of noises made everything hard to identify, not that I had standards to do that, but still.
My first memory is that of a sort of line-up, neon lights, shelves. A hand picking me up, a grip a bit too tight for my taste, but I was completely helpless, so I only blurted out a shy squeak and I was put into a carriage.
Bumpy road, horns, wheels sliding. Sunlight, amazing.
And then the dark room. cupboard, some called it. A glass mass hugging me:
- Hey there, little fella! You must be new!?
- I guess-ss-ss.
Big belly laughter, and then I noticed the others. Brothers, maybe?
- Soo cute, this one hasn't lost his squeak! I'm the sugar jar, you'll probably spend some time here, if you're good that is.
- Good at what-ss-ss?
- Meh, you'll see. Come on, don't be shy, tell the story!
- What ss-ss-story?
- Yours, of course. Or do you want me to tell it to you?
- Yes-ss-ss.
I found out lots of things then. Some shocking, some nice. I knew then I was Fritz. My brothers were also Fritz, but it's good to know you're not alone in the world. I met all the others in a matter of days, but there was no one I enjoyed talking to more than the sugar jar, and her.
She didn't live with us, in the cupboard, but on the window still, in the bright sun. Although she was a see-through, like me, the sun delicately colored her in green, purple or red, one at a time or even all together- she was just breathtaking. I saw her when the little door opened, sometimes briefly, just a glance and a smile, and sometimes I could watch her for hours...

I was a fast learner, and the sugar jar had quite some time on his lid (ha ha, get it?), so in no time I was becoming an authority in the kitchen. I was called to give advice, to judge important matters. I found out how I could see my dearest every day, just because I was so flexible and light.

And of course, I had to find out about the Gheena. I still shudder when it comes to mind. The terminus, the last resort, the final dot, the nil, the bye-bye. No one knew when you were going to be sent there, but no one ever came back either to tell...I was having restless nightmares about it, I would wake up yelling in the middle of the night, and I decided to live life to the fullest until my last second. At first, the nightmares went away, and I resumed my previous duties...until Fritz and Fritz were taken away. Fritz followed. All, one by one. And then they took Her away. Only had time to hear her whimper. I perhaps could have saved her...

So I started a life of debauchery, I was dancing about at night, was putting junk in me. No one called me Doctor Fritz anymore. No one asked for my opinion. The sugar jar tried to talk me into some sense, but I just couldn't look at me in the reflection.

My shine was gone. My squeak was gone. My love was gone. And I was about to be gone too.

One morning I was found passed out on the kitchen floor, in an indescribable mess. Instantly picked up, I knew that was it for me. I took one more look behind me, and saw the sad but ruthless faces that watched me go. Fritz, Fritz, a new Fritz who took my place, the jar, the spoons, everyone.

I was crumpled again in a tight space. Wheels sliding, horns. For a naive second I thought they were taking me back to my mother's bosom...

Dark hours running about, the scent of mildew, the terrified screams. I couldn’t talk sense into them; guess they didn't have a jar to explain the Thing to them.

And then my chance came again, my lucky star, or maybe Her watching from above. A bump in the road, a small opening in the wall, a dangerous slide in which I lost a part of my handle...and I was out! Free!? Sunlight all over, no walls, just green grass and blue sky!

I slid around and about, caressing the leaves of grass, free!

450 years to go for oblivion, 450 years to think of Her.

Good thing I had the time to write this.

Sincerely yours, forever in love,

Fritz the plastic bag.

the little girl and the man

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Wed, 28 Jan 2009 16:43:00 +0000

Man: Hey little girl, do you want candy?

Little girl: Are you Belgian?

Man: Uh, no.

Little girl: Darn, I wanted to try that before you were extinct.

Man: I think my phone is ringing. I'll just..

Little girl: Yeah, yeah, just run away. Y'all do that, coward little bastards, go bake your own egg you prick!

the lady and the little girl

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Wed, 28 Jan 2009 16:36:00 +0000

Little girl: UUUh, what are those for?

Lady: Well there's a period in every woman's life when..

Little girl: Bullshit. Do they float?

Lady: I don't...

Little girl: Can I borrow one?

Lady: I...

Little girl: Oh, come on! pleeeeeaaaaseeeeeee...

Lady: You can't d...Put that awaaa...

Little girl: There! I won't get dirt on it, I promise!

- faint-

the lady and the man

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Wed, 28 Jan 2009 16:29:00 +0000

The lady: Excuse me, sir!

The man: Yes?

The lady: What floor is this?

The man: The ninth.

The lady: Good enough. Thank you.

The man: Oh, no probl...
-splat-
The man: ...eeem?

the little girl singing

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Wed, 21 Jan 2009 12:42:00 +0000

"I am preeeetty, oh so preeeetty...
I am preeeetty scary."

the little girl and the little boy

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 14:35:00 +0000

The little girl: I can't play with you.

The little boy: Why not?

The little girl: Mom said I shouldn't.

The little boy: I'm not gonna assault you.

The little girl: Oh, it's not that at all.

The little boy: Then what?

The little girl: Well, my 23rd pair of chromosomes in every cell has two X chromosomes, and you have an X and a y. And the "y" is shrinking, so you won't have it anymore, and you will cease to exist. So why bother with men at all?

The little boy: Oh yeah, and who are you going to play with? Robots?

The little girl: Umm... yeah!

the same robot and the little girl, now a bit taller

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Fri, 09 Jan 2009 11:49:00 +0000

previously on the subject

Little girl, now a bit taller: Robots don't have feelings.

Robot: Why not?

Little girl, now a bit taller: Well, you must have stuff to have feelings.

Robot: Like what?

Little girl, now a bit taller: Flesh and bones, for instance.

Robot: Like this piece of decaying goat?

Little girl, now a bit taller: Ewww, where'd you get that?

Robot: From the inventory.

Little girl, now a bit taller: What else is in there?

Robot: Everything. Well except feelings.

Little girl, now a bit taller: That's sad...

Robot: Oh, I wouldn't know.

don't we all love physicians?

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Wed, 07 Jan 2009 18:14:00 +0000

- So, what seems to be the problem?
- Well, it's nothing serious, probably.
- Hmm. cough a bit please.
- Ghremblh.
- Ok. now inspire.
- Hmmmmph.
- Expire.
- Huuuuh.
- Good.
- Is it serious?
- What?
- This.
- Aaa... Do you feel this?
- Yeeees, it tickles.
- Ok...Now, this?
- No, go back a bit, where it tickled.
- Sorry?
- A bit more to the left.
- ?
- No, not there, more to the left.
- Seriously now. what are your symptoms?
- It's serious, doctor.
- I'm sure it's just a cold, sir. If you would just tell me what your...
- Ok, you're just like the rest of them...
- Sorry?
- You wanna know? Do you? Do you, punk?
- Sir?...
- Yes, I've got a condition. Can I live with it? No, I can't. It's unbearable.
- Well I'm sure we can do some tests and it...
- I'll be blunt. There isn't a name for it yet, but it's catching on. Everyone will be suffering from it sooner or later. It's...
- Sir?
- It's...this: I cannot feel tickles anymore. Unless they come from a doctor. Will you be my tickle doctor? Will you?
- Sir?

D.I.Y. story

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 10:08:00 +0000

There was once a M.U.N. who really liked to talk to strangers. Her C.P.-s weren't very great P.U.- s, but they were trying their best to keep up with the all the T.-s in the world.
So she had to H.E.R.K. and D.P.S. whomever she could. Don't we all?
An S.C.D. was a risk she was going to take to fulfill all her Q.S.C.-s, although she feared the M.
Everyone feared the M. in that town.
But enough with that, it's probably getting confusing.
As she walked down the street one day, she heard a faint mumble behind her:
- Hey baby, want to see my B.U.?
She smiled on the inside, but she couldn't show him that, so she inquired:
- Do you have an R.D.F. to go with that B.U.?
- Who do you think I am? he laughed and passed her a C.O.D.A.
She just P.S.-d with W.I.W.: the M.!!!!

the rock

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Sat, 03 Jan 2009 12:09:00 +0000

One fine rainy day, there was a shiny little rock.
- But i want to be in a sunny day, said the little shiny rock.
(gaah ok)

One fine sunny day, there was a little rock.
-Shiny! insisted the rock.

One fine sunny day, there was a shiny little rock. But why was it so shiny? because of the rain! (ha!)
- I said no rain.

One fine sunny day, there was a shiny little rock. But why was it so shiny? because someone peed on it.
Shut up you little rock, you can't speak!!

- Then what is the story about? inquired the rock.

Ah, forget it.

the little girl and the robot

noreply@blogger.com (rox) — Sat, 03 Jan 2009 11:25:00 +0000

Little Girl: What are you doing here? Robots shouldn’t be in tales…

Robot: Why not?

Little Girl: Robots are evil and they destroy things.

Robot: Ah, right then. Which way is the exit?

Little Girl: I don’t know.

Robot: Hmm. Then can I come with you until we find it?

Little Girl: I guess. Maybe you can help me with my dream.

Robot: What’s that?

Little Girl: I want to be famous.

Robot: What’s that?

Little Girl: It’s when people know your name.

Robot: What’s your name?

Little Girl: Lil.

Robot: Ok Lil. That’s it? Are you famous now?

Little Girl: Well, umm, no. When you’re famous you get to go to fancy restaurants, and eat.

Robot: What’s that?

Little Girl: When you put stuff in your mouth.

Robot: Sounds disgusting.

Little Girl: It really isn’t. Well, except broccoli.

Robot: What’s that?

Little Girl: It’s very small green trees you have to eat so you can grow bigger.

Robot: Do you have any?

Little Girl: God, no. Sooo, what do you do?

Robot: I don’t know.

Little Girl: What’s your name? That might help you get started.

Robot: I don’t know.

Little Girl: Didn’t your mother tell you that?

Robot: Well, she said “B”.

Little Girl: Bee? You don’t look like a bee to me. Didn’t she say anything else?

Robot: She got unplugged.

Little Girl: What’s that? Oh, wait, I know. It’s when bands sing their usual songs, but worse. People seem to like it, but it’s probably just to be nice to them so they will sing them right the next time.

Robot: Ah.

Little Girl: Maybe she didn’t say “bee”. She must have said “be”, like “let there be light”.

Robot: Yes, she said “B”.

Little Girl: I knew it!

Robot: Does that make me famous too?

Little Girl: Perhaps. Or then again she might have said “beep”, but didn’t have time to finish it.

Robot: What’s “beep”?

Little Girl: Oh, I can’t say that in front of the kids.