Cushion

Cushion
October 2016
San Pedro, CA, United States
"Romeo, this is RB-1. What have we told you about sitting down on the job?"
"That we're so stupid heavy it takes an age and a half to get anywhere let alone to stand up."
"Exactly. Forget all that and just stay put."
"It's pretty comfy, actually. A bit squirmy for my tastes,
but surprisingly squishy—"
CUMP
"Oh fuck was that us or it?"
"Sensors aren't saying much— RB-2 what the hell is so funny?"
"You—teehee—you guys look like you peed on a cushion—" Snicker.
Thump.
"Ow!"
"If that pee were blue, toxic, and glowing slightly."
"Is it dead yet?"
"Not yet, Romeo, still wiggling a bit."
"Might as well lean back and put our feet up."
"I like your thinking. Or my thinking. Someone's thinking."
"Doesn't matter, just relax, enjoy the sunset—,"
"It's not sunset."
"Then enjoy the view. Feel the breeze in your hair, the sun on your skin, the reek of Blue burning your eyes ...."
"You're being stupid, right, the Conn-pod's not compromised?"
"Just being stupid."
"Though it is starting to smell a bit."
"That's all Bruce."
"Says the guy who doesn't like to shower before drops."
"Romeo, this is RB-2, we're cracking ribs up here and have elected to trade our Jumphawk for a more fiery variety, fill it with neutralizer, and douse your asses. Be back soon."
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