the robot & Roy: and the Big, Kosher, Dinner:

Chapter One: the Dæy ahead

The robot gave Roy a subtle pinch around his love handle skin with its paddle laden hands.

“What was that for, robot,” Roy asked, more concerned with working a length of tangy NeoBoca® brand, artificially menthol flavored ‘Tooth Rope’ at a problematic piece of food detritus stuck between teeth deep in his mouth –that must have been from the evening previous; a morsel he could find no evidence of in the mirror, but that he could feel thanks to the subtle displacement of the affected molars– than with the robot’s cold, what-now-passed-for-finger-tips.

"Just checking to see if you are too ripe for my stew," the robot replied.

"Robots don't eat stew, Robot," Roy said.

"I know this, Roy," the robot said, “At least not my model,” it added. “But my carnivorous dinner guests may, and I certainly can't disappoint."

Roy ceased sawing at his teeth and gums and stared at the robot in the mirror with a confused look, leaving the NeoBoca™ brand ‘Tooth Rope’ dangling from the right corner of his mouth and middle lip long enough for the artificial menthol flavoring to begin seeping into and tingling his sensitive lip skin.

The robot registered the look and then its head moved incrementally up and down, once again assessing Roy, “Yes, I think your flanks will do nicely," it said.

"Just what is it you're-"

"Good talk," the robot interrupted as its legs scissored apart into a parting, deep knee bend, causing it to swivel around from the weight shift before an upward thrust of its body then pushed it forward and propelled it away from the sanitation room before Roy could finish his question. Unable to dislodge what was probably a phantom remnant of wild ruminant, Roy shrugged his shoulders and tossed the used ‘Tooth Rope’ into the burn bin before following after the robot. 

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