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Robots Crying on Beds

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Joel and the bots filed out of the theatre, glazed looks on their faces.

"Hold me, Joel!" Crow clung to his leg. "I can't believe we have to go back in there!"

"Now, look guys, we have seen some pretty terrible movies, haven't we?"

The bots nodded.

"And we survived them, right?"

"But – Ghost Soup Infidel Red Joel," Servo whispered, fear evident in his voice, then a little louder, "Red!"

"Well, yes, the mads really seem to have outdone themselves this time, it's true – but let's try and think of something good about it, okay?"

The bots shared a look of horror.

"Are you crazy?" Tom accused, looking as aghast as was possible for someone with a very limited range of facial expressions.

"Aw, come on – there's got to be something, right? Ghost Soup Infidel Red has... very... Well it has characters, right? People with names..."

"Joel!" Crow shook him. "Two of them are the same! One of them doesn't even have a name! She's just a clone!"

"Well, okay, but there's the guy with the.... star saber?"

"Definitely not a light saber, nu-uh," Crow nodded sagely.

"Nope!" Servo drew out an appropriately sized version of the weapon in question, waving it around while the other two tried to get out of the way. "These puppies won't get you sued! Also they're great for opening canned goods! And also the hull – no one go into cargo bay 3, okay, and don't ask me any questions!"

"Jeeze, okay, Servo! Can you put that away please, though? Someone is going to get hurt."

"Yes!" Servo brandished the star-saber. "Probably you, puny human! Mwa ha ha –urk!"

"Got you! You're mine now, Ryan! I mean Servo! You can't escape our on-screen chemistry!"

"Ahhh, Joel help, he's trying to kiss me!"

Joel sighed. "Okay, Crow, good job on the disarm, but we really, really don't need a recap of the scene where Ryan and Luke try to work out their unresolved sexual tension." Gently, putting aside the light weapon, he pried the two bots apart, setting them up on the counter. "Well it could be worse, you could have imprinted on that crazy medibot. What was his deal, anyway?"

"Don't you bad talk Bipi, Joel!" Servo turned on him sharply. "He is a robot hero! You just can't understand because you're human."

"Uh... right." Joel looked nervously at his bot companions, probably hoping he would never need them to perform any emergency medical procedures. "Say – have either of you seen Gypsy?"

The bots paused, cocking their heads, as all three realized they could hear crying from another room.

"It wasn't me!" Crow declared instantly, followed by Tom shaking his head to disavow any responsibility.

Joel sidled over to the door and peeked in. "Gypsy? Is everything okay in there?"

The crying intensified. Joel glanced back at the bots. "She's crying on the bed," he whispered.

"Come on, Gypsy, it wasn't that bad, we can make it..."

"Abloo-hooo hoo!" Gypsy cried from the other room. "It's not that, Joel! I'm weeping for the tragic shortness of human lives, when compared to the eternal light of the Space Elves!"

"It's all right Gypsy.... The Space Elves aren't real. It's just a movie, okay?"

"I know! Boohoo hooooooo! But Moira.... was just... so sad!"

"Aww, come on out here, and we'll all give you some hugs, okay?"

Joel moved back to let her come out of the bedroom. She sighed dramatically as she did, but accepted a hug from Joel.

"Holy crap, what's that on your face?" Crow looked up at the larger robot, his beak hanging open. "It looks like....water!"

"Well, Crow," Joel answered, patting Gypsy on the side of her head, "I told you she was crying right? That's why happens when you cry – your tears make your face all wet."

"Joel!" Tom huffed at him again. "That's ridiculous. EVERYONE knows that robots don't cry – we don't have tear ducts!"

Joel looked thoughtful, putting a finger on his chin. "Hmmm, Servo, actually you make a pretty good point, except that-"

He was interrupted by the all-too familiar blaring klaxon and tremors. All three looked stricken at the thought of having to return to the theatre, yelling out "Movie sign!" in tandem, and hustling to take their seats as the mads inflicted their own special brand of psychological torture in the form of Ghost Soup Infidel Red.