Crippled, Crippled Robot was walking, which he loved. That’s right, he lo-ooved walking. It was his favourite.

Except for murdering. Murdering was his real favourite – walking was his second favourite.

This particular day he was walking in Bruckton, the poor section of town. Of course, CCR had only recently been created, so he didn’t know where he was. In fact, he didn’t actually know anything at all. His brain was severely damaged and his battered metal body barely worked.

CCR whistled his favourite tune as he walked. Naturally, it was the only tune he’d ever heard; thus, it was his favourite. Just when he thought his day couldn’t get any better, he ran into a lovely hobo.

The hobo sat with his back against the wall and looked at CCR. “What’s your name, robot?” he asked.

CCR thought for a second before responding, “I don’t know. Michael?”

“You don’t know your own name?” the hobo derided.

“Shut up! What’s your name?”

“I already told you,” the hobo yelled, “I’m Norton Von Eeten Peterson!”

CCR began to get very frustrated because he couldn’t figure out where this man’s first name ended and his last name began.

“I don’t believe that is your true identity,” he said. “Question: Why are you not afraid of me? I am a giant, murderous robot.”

“Why would I be afraid of a robot?” the hobo responded. “Everybody owns a robot.”

This puzzled CCR. Everybody owns a robot? he thought to himself. Where am I? He decided to go on the offensive.

“Where is your robot?” CCR asked. “I demand to speak with him.”

“Yeah? Well, demand this!” the hobo shouted and leapt to his feet. Nothing happened. They stared at each other for a long while before Norton sheepishly said, “He’s out getting me Burger King.”

* * *

Norton Von Eeten Peterson and CCR stood around, waiting for Nortie’s robot to return (if it did indeed exist).

“So, what’s your function, robot?” Nortie asked.

CCR thought for a long time. He wanted desperately to remember his origins, but he could only grasp tiny fragments. Something about a car accident… a lab explosion… Facebook… It was all hazy. Fortunately, though, he was a great liar. That’s right, he lo-ooved lying. It was his third favourite.

“I possess the ability to show people as they truly are,” he lied. “Also, I can fly.”

N.V.E.P. the hobo was overcome with excitement and vomited all over the place. Things quickly grew out of control and the vomiting turned into screaming, which gave way to thrashing. CCR hated thrashing. It was his least favourite. He sighed and looked down the street to see if there was any sign of Nortie’s robot, but there was no one in sight.

As the hobo’s senseless rampage increased, CCR held out his metallic arm and pressed the KILL button located in his chest-plate. He would have to murder this hobo via electrocution.

Then the unexpected happened. You see, CCR (believing his own name to be Michael) did not realize that he was a crippled robot. He figured he was in perfect working order. Nope. None of his buttons really function as anticipated and rather than murdering the hobo, he accidentally began to show the man who he truly was.

CCR expected that the hobo would turn into a prince or something during the final transformation.

“Question: Why are you more monstrous than ever?” he asked.

The hobo named Norton simply shrugged, “I have terrible, terrible secrets.” He paused for a moment. “Am I going to look like this forever?”

“Yes,” CCR gloated, “You are trapped as a monster forever.”

“Great,” the hobo-monster replied. “Now I can steal Burger King whenever I want and I won’t have to rely on that stupid robot.”

It troubled CCR that he had accidentally made the hobo happy when he really meant to murder him. He figured since Nortie thought that robots were stupid, he might as well turn him into one. So he held out his metallic arm once again and pressed his TRANSFORM button.

Norton Von Eeten Peterson the hobo fell down, dead.

CCR rummaged through Norton’s pockets in order to steal his wallet, when he came across a startling discovery. He had a badge. N.V.E.P. was actually an undercover D-Force agent. D-Force… CCR thought to himself, What could that mean? And why is it so familiar?

As CCR struggled to piece together his memories, the world began to spin and get darker. His thin, sheet metal legs started to wobble like age-old saws. The last thing CCR heard was the sound of his own obscenities as the pavement rushed up to meet him.

TO BE CONTINUED………