The robot rose its offending arm and pointed its paddled hand. “You think so,” it asked, generating a squeak.

“That’s what I said, Robot. Why, do I not look okay?”

“You can’t outfox the fox,” the robot said with a tone indicative of a prideful yet obnoxious taunt.

Roy waved his hand at the robot as if to dismiss the statement, but in a way that was also indicative of having accepted it in an effort to try moving on to the next subject with the same gesture.

“Oh, look at that, Roy, according to my biometric sensors the pissy air in your hubris has suddenly taken a sharply angled downturn,” the robot said.

Roy closed his eyes in the frustration of having seemingly accomplished his ends, but still not finding resolution of the robot&rsq...

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