"This sentence is a lie" I half-stated, half whimpered.
"So much for that, I suppose."
"Hey, kid! Push that one and scram!" A voice cried out. I remained a mere mural. A moment passed before the voice cried out again, "FINE - every fucking time!"
The bots, meanwhile had shifted - one examined the damage, one looked for the assailant, and the damaged one stared me down. A short pause, a man-hole cover, and a coverall-wearing man later and the three were in various states of disrepair.
"Fuck, dude - thanks!" I sputtered.
"No problem kid. It's The Janitor's job to keep the streets clean. Now you should get home before anything else goes wrong."
"Wait," I said, confused. "I thought it was the trash-bot's job to keep the streets clean."
"It was a metaphor, kid, now scram."
"But seriously ,how do you expect to keep the streets clean if you keep destroying trash-bots?"
The grubby man looked at me, looked at the bots, and picked up one of their knives.
"I think I understand what they were up to now," he said before plunging the knife into my stomach.
[written June/July 2015]