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Wednesday, May 27, 2015 - 22:06 SGT
Posted By: Gilbert

Mr. Robo's New Profession

Me: This is gonna be a train wreck. I just know it.

Mr. Ham: *reaching under the desk* Just as well I got the popcorn, then - Ah Lar... Conrad, fetch the beer and peanuts. Lucky for us, we can both watch and hear it unfold in hi-definition. No, not skimping on the drone sensors, not me! Okay, Mr. Robo's getting out of his car... and without a sidearm. Not too advisable in my humble opinion, it looks like the wrong side of the wrong side of the tracks.

Me: ...

Mr. Ham: Conrad, could you go rescue our poor Gong Tai Sui Peh? If you rush, you can probably get there in half an hour. And grab a couple of body bags too. Just in case.

Conrad: Aw, I want to watch too.

Mr. Ham: No worries, I'm taping it. Ah, it's starting - he's smiling and waving at the local bike gang chapter loitering at the corner... they're staring back at him... and, er, smiling and waving back. Sort of unexpected, that. Upping the volume...

*static crackles*

Mr. Robo: My, the local denizens are really quite friendly. *bumps into huge leather-jacketed individual* Oh, pardon me! Might you be so kind as to point me to 72 Greyduck Street? Straight down and second right, you say? A million thanks, kind stranger. Just saying, that rendition of a skull that you've got is not quite anatomically accurate - the orbital bones are not well-defined - but otherwise it's one of the better depictions that I've seen. And good day to you, too.

*saunters on*

My word! I have to apologize! I didn't know where I was putting my feet! Nice jackboots you got there. An excellently-weathered 1970s vintage, I'd estimate, they look like they have seen some action too. Ooh, the colour even matches your Glock pistol. How thoughtful! Ha-ha!

Mr. Ham: I don't get it, how isn't he dead yet?

Mr. Robo: *looking to the side* 67... 68... strange, someone seems to have nicked the next numberplate. Why would anyone do that... I seem to have stepped on a... packet? Oh crap. Was it yours? How much was it? Never mind? No, I must insist. Please don't walk away so quickly... oh well, it was probably just flour.

...And what's this? *bends over* See a pin and pick it up, all the day you'll have good luck, my old nan always said. Er, I suppose a syringe qualifies too. 71... 72. This is it.

*rings doorbell*

*a wild mallard appears*


Now, just look at what the cat dragged in


Mr. Mallard: Well, well, what do we have here. Don't see many of your kind around these parts. So, what's yer fancy? I'll be frank with ya, our Roborovskis got deported after the last raid, but we've got a few lab mice, les petite bombes. Oh, and a naked mole rat just arrived, if you're into them.

Mr. Robo: The mice, do they happen to belong to the C57BL/6 strain? Just curious.

*Mr. Mallard narrows eyes*

Mr. Mallard: We got an intellectual here now, huh.

Mr. Robo: No, no, it's simply that I came across an article in Scientific American that hinted at an oversupply of that breed, after several large studies were cancelled. And I was looking forward to them, too - I'm sure that you'd agree that adequate research funding is the way forward for our great nation.

Mr. Mallard: *losing patience* Yah, yah. So, do you like 'em with a bit of meat, or what? I've a business to run, yeah?

Mr. Robo: Actually, Mr. Mallard sir, I am here on the express recommendation of Mr. Ham.

Mr. Ham: *munching on popcorn* Yes, use my name again.

Mr. Mallard: Mr. Ham? Never heard of 'im.

Mr. Ham: *chokes on popcorn* I never... the little twerp!

Mr. Robo: Uh, in any case, I am here to apply for one of the escorting openings in your respected establishment, sir.

*Mr. Mallard takes a step back*

*Mr. Mallard looks Mr. Robo up and down slowly*

*Mr. Mallard turns and waddles away*

Mr. Robo: Just a moment, sir! Aren't you even going to consider reading my résumé? *waves a couple of sheets*

Mr. Mallard: Knock it off, sonny. Yer not cut out for it. We're more or less an all-female working environment here, too.

Mr. Robo: Wait! Under the Fair Consideration Framework and Tripartite Guidelines on Fair Employment Practices, I believe that you are obliged to at least grant me a hearing. I'd hate to have to report any breach to the relevant authorities.


Labour mobility is essential to our growth as a First World society
(Source: newnation.sg)


Mr. Mallard: *hastily* Whoa, whoa, slow down there. I'm just a 'onest small-time entrepreneur lookin' to make a livin', see. And we don't want to be gettin' into no trouble.

Mr. Robo: *hopefully* So I'm in?

Mr. Mallard: *sighs* Fine, I'll hear yer pitch. Was a slow day, after all. But no guarantees. So? Why do ya want the job?

Mr. Robo: Er, I heard that the money's good, and I figured...

Mr. Mallard: *twirls cane* They all do, they all do, my friend.

Mr. Robo: *quickly* But not only that, it has been one of my long-cherished ambitions to be a top-class escort; I believe that effective escorting plays a highly-strategic and oft-underappreciated role in international diplomacy. It would not just be an occupation to me, sir - it is a calling!

Mr. Mallard: Now you're laying it on a bit thick.

Mr. Robo: Uh, so are we moving on to the brainteaser section of the interview anytime soon? I won't lie to you, I've done quite a bit of prep these past few days.

Mr. Mallard: Hah, you're a funny one, I'll give that to you. *scratches head* I dunno, some of the clients might like that sort of thing. Conversationally, yer in the clear. No accent there either. Good. *squints* With a wardrobe overhaul... yes, it could be done. Still, that's not the main... competency required in this line of work. Say, you'd be okay with entertaining more... mature ladies?

Mr. Robo: Sure! What do I look like, a misogynist? Sir, I'll escort anybody! Hillary Clinton, Prince Charles, Donald Trump, the Panchen Lama, the nice gentleman on the other side of the street *waves cheerily*. Or his pooch, for the matter.

Mr. Mallard: *strokes chin* ...Interesting. Very interesting. We might have something here. I may have underestimated you, friend. But, I have to warn you, things may get... rough.

Mr. Robo: Ah, no problem at all! That is exactly what I've trained for, I know exactly what to expect. Been through all the standard scenarios a few times, Mr. Ham was very strict on that. I've got my full combat kit in the car - helmet, body webbing, garters, boots, and toggle rope. Ha-ha!


Took days to get that helmet from Beach Road
(Source: prettyawfulthings.com)


Mr. Mallard: *backs a half-step involuntarily* Uh... okay. I had no idea yer were this... experienced.

Mr. Robo: Want to hear more about my gear? I can bring them out for inspection, if you'd like.

Mr. Mallard: *hastily* No, no, it's not necessary. At all.

Mr. Robo: *disappointed* Oh. Anyway, it's all listed in my résumé. There're ISO standards to meet, standard practice.

Mr. Mallard: It will be completely satisfactory, I'm certain. Well. Er, Mr... you are...

Mr. Robo: Mr. Robo. Mr. Robo G. Grey.

Mr. Mallard: *rolls eyes* Not that book again. I'll never understand how it got to be a bestseller. Not that it's any of my business what you want to call yourself. So, Mr. Grey, from what I can discern, yer certainly qualified. Overqualified, even. That said, we do get a bit busy some of these days, so can I have an idea of the sort of working hours and conditions that you are accustomed to...

Mr. Robo: *enthusiastically* Great! I'm up for it! When can I start? I'm thinking eight-hour days, but heck, I'll do ten if you need me to. That counts as overtime, right?

Mr. Mallard: *carefully* Eight hours... straight?

Mr. Robo: Huh? Of course! Doesn't everybody do that? And here I thought that being on alert for a twenty-four hour shift was one of the prerequisites to pass basic training.

Mr. Mallard: Er... *pokes head around wall* Krystal? Destiny? Nevaeh? You three might want to hear this.

Mr. Robo: Hi, new colleagues! Recon platoon, I presume, from the sparse apparel? Very useful in executing swift maneuvers, from the handbook. Admirable dedication, I must say. Not too sure about the camouflage, but hey, I'm not the expert.

Mr. Mallard: You were saying, twenty-four hours..?

Mr. Robo: It was nothing, nothing at all. Was shooting every ten minutes or so. All part of the drill.

Krystal: *hesitatingly* ...Non-stop?

Mr. Robo: Is there any other way to do it?

Destiny: ...But wouldn't it, like, hurt?

Mr. Robo: What? Why would it hurt? That said, you probably wouldn't want to touch it later in the exercise, it'd be rather heated from all the friction. I do try to take a break when it begins to emit smoke. Only sensible. Then, I switch to my other gun. Er, Mr. Mallard, your knees seem to be trembling. Are you feeling alright? Wait, do ducks even have knees?



Neveah: Other gun, you say?

Mr. Robo: Yup. My basic loadout's a twenty-inch primary, with a concealed backup. Why are you all looking at me like that? It's not even anything very special. Vanilla doctrine.

Mr. Mallard: ...I ...I think I've heard enough. Sir, if you are just half of what you have just made yourself out to be, you will be an absolute legend. Ladies, show him in.

Mr. Robo: You're too kind, sir.

*party disappears into house*

...

Me: ...

Mr. Ham: ...

Me: ...

Mr. Ham: ...

Conrad: ...

Mr. Ham: ...why are you still here? You were supposed to go after him, ham!

Conrad: Sorry boss. Couldn't tear myself away from the show.

Mr. Ham: You know what, I can't blame you. *shrugs* Funny old world, ain't it?

Me: ...



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