Prompt:
Philharmonic (Doctor)
Pharmacy
Galactic
Floodgates
Showbiz
"HELLO THERE, MUNSTER. VELCOME TO GALACTICA PHARMACEUTICALS. I WILL TOTALLY SERVE YOU," spoke a metal contraption monotonously.
Cain stood in front of the counter with a "not amused" face, his mouth forming a straight line. Not even bothering to ask why there was a robot there in the first place, he sighed as he made his request. "Here's my perscription. I need vicadin."
"PROMISCUOUS ERROR," said the contraption, flailing his arms as his whole body spun, with the exeption of his head.
"Pr-Promicuous?" Cain repeated in bewilderment.
"VICADIN ALL GONE. STOLEN STOLEN. ITEM #232 OUT OF STORKS," mispoke the machine. The man briefly wondered if the reason he had to take these drugs was because of the insanity surrounding him that always led to him getting either physical injuries or a series of migranes. Honestly, it had it be intentional for anyone to program such a ridiculously nonsensical robot.
"Stolen? What? How can--"
"YOUR VIRGINITY WAS STOLEN," the robot proclaimed epically. Several people passing by paused mistep to stare at the humiliated man.
Cain decided that sometime that afternoon he was going to search for a mallet and then rip down some floodgates so he could put the cursed machine in the center of the disaster to convulse up in waves of sparks, explode, and die.
"HAHA. JK, JK, JOHN KENNEDY. ITEM #323 ALL STOLEN BY A SHADY PMSING GUY WITH CANE IN DIAGNOSTICS DEPARMENT."
The investigator glared as his perceptive abilities went in alarm. "You just said it was item #232 just a moment ago. ...Hold on, are you talking about... That guy? You just let him get away with the vicadin?! Oh, COME ON!"
"ERROR. YOU FAIL. I SAID #323. YOU NEED A HEARING AID," the machine recommended. Cain tried to insist he heard otherwise, but the thing cut him off, "IT AMUSED ME TO LET THAT FOOLISH FOOL TAKE THE VICADIN--I ENJOY OBSERVING FOOLISH HUMANS SUFFER IN GRATUITIOUS AMOUNTS OF TROUBLE. AHAHA. HAHA. HA."
Another voice began to laugh along the robotic tone's, one crisper and much more full of life and cheer. "Hey, on the bright side, he probably just made room for three more seasons of that guy's show!"
"NOT HIM. NEGATIVE NEGATIVE. HE SAID HIS NAME WAS DR. PHIL," said the contraption.
The younger man raised an eyebrow. "He deals with relationships. Terribly, might I add. He wouldn't be here, Bawb. So don't lie, or I'll have to wash your insides with Hannah Montana toothpaste, and make you do another Miley Cyrus video the next time I do maintenance on you."
The machine froze up in what seemed to be fear, but then he played a voice clip of a man whose voice was quite seductive in tone--practically in purrs: "[Hello. You can call me Phil. Doctor Phil Harmonic, at your service.]"
"Oh great, just who I needed: another weirdo," Cain sighed at finally stopping in his thoughts to notice his younger cousin.
"Why of course you need me, Cain! Isn't it always after you speak to me that you solve half of your cases?" replied Deo. "Anyway, it seems that you were sexually harassed, Bawb. Makes sense--you used to be in showbiz, right? Ahh, Saturday Night Died was a great show."
Anybody who comes on to a machine can't be in their right mind. Or maybe, the older man wondered, just maybe that Dr. Harmonic guy was desperate? Considering all possible scenarios, Cain's head shot back up as if he had an idea, and a light bulb turned on.
"Was there anyone else working here?"
"JUST A GORGEOUS BLOND CHICK WITH 42D'S, WHO WORKED DIRECTLY BEHIND ME AT THE TIME THAT GUY HIT ON ME."
Well, that explains it. Does this car wreck of a machine have any normal comprehension capabilities at all?
"WELL, THIS PIECE OF WRITING WAS POINTLESS," Bawb stated bluntly.
"Uhm, you just broke fourth wall," Cain narrated.
In response, the robot just played another sound clip: "[ITEM #323 FELL OFF THE STOCK MARKET.] HEAR THAT, FOOL? I SAID #323. FEAR ME."
"You never even said that to me!!" Cain said, exasperated.
---
Afterword from the characters:
Cain: That thing is definitely your creation.
Deo: ... (Well yes, I created it to make you miserable, but you'll never know.)
Cain: Which begs the question--why not become an engineer rather than a mortician?
Deo: No particular reason. Besides, here I get to work with you! (Because I love playing with dead bodies and >spoilerspoilerspoiler<.)
Cain: But you could invent things! And I am in dire need of an all-in-one forensic equiptment!
Deo: I only make things of my interest. So this all in one DNA sampler, finger print analizer, etc, would have to come in the form of magical girl wand. Do you still want it?
Cain: ...(Actually considering it.)
Deo: Just--no. Amusing, but--no.
---
A/N: ...I've created a monster. I got Bawb's name from my friend Evan's screen name. It just always struck me as a name of a robot. But I amused myself as I wrote this because all he can do is spew crap, and say things like, "THAT MERELY HALF COMPUTES" or "BRING ME A WAFFLE IRON, I'M HUNGRY." I have a very... Random, Seth MacFarlane-ish sort of humour. I'd love to do some dark humour aswell, but I haven't a clue on how I should go about that. Ahh, that, and Cain is just so fun to torture.
Munster: Google it. Because even I'm not sure.
>Velcome: A vampire-like "Welcome".
>"Promiscuous" error: I blame pop songs.
>"That guy" is Gregory House, from HOUSE, played by Hugh Laurie, a totally sexy mofo. With an awesome British accent.
>"Saturday Night Died", parody of SNL, a show that should die because rarely is it funny.
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