So I have no idea if this is actually volume 22 of funny tales from my house, but it reminds me of a little game a bunch of my teacher friends in middle school land used to play (you all know who you are). Each spring, our school would hold an outside olympic day(s) with all of the students participating in relay races, team games, track and field and stuff like that. Each spring the staff would simply make up a number and announce it to the entire student body: “Welcome to the 254th annual Woodbury School Olympic Games!” It was always dedicated to retiring staff members, who were present “for each and every olympic contest!” The following year could have been the 123rd annual, and then the 45th annual. No kid, to my knowledge, ever caught on and asked why the numbers didn’t jive. Speaking of numbers, I would occasionally visit another teacher’s classroom to bust on the kids and have a little fun for a few minutes. IF the teacher was younger than me, I usually said something like: “You know, you were the best teacher I ever had!” I would then watch as the kids tried to do the math and figure out if I was lying or not. Good times.
OK. On to the REAL story for this week: MY WIFE BUYS STUFF ONLINE WITHOUT TELLING ME.
We are keeping Bezos in business over here. Yes, I know you are too, which is why he builds rockets and I search the cup holder in my car for spare change. Well, my wife just purchased one of those self-vacuuming, sweeper, ZoomDaRoom things. It’s called a ROBOROCK. Whoever invented this thing should be tied to a post while the machine sweeps them. Wait, listen. I know it’s supposed to save the consumer all this time while it vacuums the house so you can remain on the couch ordering further shit from Amazon that you didn’t know you needed. Tell me that the “SELF VACUUM” isn’t an American thing? How lazy can we all get? I hate the thing. It’s loud, annoying, and deadly. Like my drumming, and my flatulence.
My wife and the kids were all excited to “dock this thing and charge it up.” I had no idea what was happening when it began to move about the house without doing anything besides making a noise so loud that it seemed I was inside a commercial car wash. I was told that it was “mapping” the house. Great, now the thing is a Chinese government spy that knows where my couch, table, bed, and toilet are. No matter. When the Chinese Zombie Spies invade, I will be sitting on the couch with my wife as she orders more shit off Amazon. I long to know what the most random Amazon order has ever been!! Maybe someone has ordered butter, sewing needles and a Bible. Or possibly it was a cribbage board, saddle shoes, and 3 copies of the Essential Elements Clarinet Book 2. (Phone call for Gerry…..your order is ready Gerry).
Ok calm down. I don’t want the zombies to hear me. Well, so while this thing is MAPPING the house, I decide to relax in bed and put the RedSox game on. About 8 seconds after I get comfortable and turn the TV on, Mr. ZoombaVacuumROBO-spy comes into the damn room to “map it.” The sound in my bedroom is akin to a commercial dumpster being emptied into a large truck.
I ask Vanessa if she has to do this now and I am told (sternly) that the machine can’t be stopped while it’s mapping or it may accidentally send the nuclear launch codes to Biden and cook us all. I’ll just need to deal with it. ROBO-SPY repeatedly bumps into my parked power chair and seems confused. Vanessa has the kids go under the bed to collect stray socks and “big balls of dust.” Because I am (A) stupid, and (B) have a Y chromosome, I ask what the point of having the spy-vac is if the kids are cleaning under the bed……I am reminded that it’s “MAPPING” and will clean later. It sounds like a Learjet is taking off in my bedroom. The RedSox are getting crushed (again) and the kids think all of this is hilarious. I am about to lose my shit and I remind my wife that she’s lucky I am disabled or I would smash Zombie-Bot with a tack hammer, then return it to Bezos and tell him where he can “MAP” next.
Soon after this, I am unconscious and ROBOCHINA has returned to its dock. I am not sure which happened first and the next morning I remark to Vanessa that I fell asleep quick. She is convinced that the zen like drone of ChinaBot is what lulled me to sleep. Doubtful.
A week passes, and this thing comes off its dock at all kinds of strange times. The dog is terrified, I am trying to work and ZomBot is cornering me. I am keenly aware that it has begun to suck up my nearby phone charger and that it’s coming for me next. It wasn’t confused when it bounced off my wheelchair….no….it was like the raptor in Jurassic Park! It was testing my devices for weaknesses. Damn you Bezos and the Chinese spies! It’s collusion and all of you are in on it with my wife and kids. I begin to lose my grip on reality as I try to bump and steer the creature back to its lair but it is no use. It wraps and sucks everything in its path. Usually I would insert a cheap joke here, but I must focus on the tale at hand. It’s 11:23 AM and I am afraid that my death will be here at any moment. ZombieVac seems to smile. I am in a Stephen King novel. Thankfully, my wife enters as it is her lunch break and she has come home.
After yelling at me, she casts a spell on RoboChina and it willfully goes to sleep. She then instructs me to download the app (there’s an app for this, run also by the ChineseZombiePeople) so I can “CONTROL THE ROBOROCK.” At this point, out of fear, I am lucky that I can still control my bowels. I explain to my wife that I’m not sure that I can coexist in the house with this thing. Back in the day, she used to strap our vacuum to my chair with bungee cords and I would clean the house. No Bezos, no spying. I was then reminded that I couldn’t get “under the couch or the hutch.” I try my coexisting argument about living with the creature. I am dismissed. Later that afternoon, the Amazon guy delivers a tent that reads “WHEELCHAIR ACCESSIBLE.” I’m screwed.
A week goes by and I have lunch with my dear friend Brenda, who I have not seen in person in years. We laugh, and catch up on life. I tell her about the ZombieVacuum from hell that supposedly can be controlled with an app (I ain’t buying it). She tells me that you can give it a name in the app and that she loves hers because…..wait for it……”BON JOVI cleans her house.”
She’s in on it too. If you have one of these, heed caution. The end is near. I can’t believe my ears. Dear, dear Brenda has fallen prey to this American invention of laziness.
Later that afternoon, I return home. The ROBOBEZOS is not on its dock, but it’s not running either. The house is quiet. My wife is out with the kids. I go into my bedroom and the machine is on my side of the bed, chilling out on top of my pillow with an orange grin on its display screen.
This may be my last entry. If you don’t hear from me next week, please send help. The robot has assumed control. The robot has assumed control. The robot has assumed….
Patrick moeschen 