She was nine. Sweet. Darling. Every pet her

She was nine. Sweet. Darling. Every pet her mother bought she killed, drained its blood and decorated her doll house with its entrails. Child Voodoo.

Robot children had no concept of life or death. Ever since robots developed artificial intelligence and enslaved the human race by regularly injecting them with heroin, the meaning

of a life quickly was reduced to a single unit of robot production or maintenance. A human life was valuable insofar as it helped sustain the robot population. You'd be surprised

from out of the blue. K3R3 began to notice that always seemed to be the case. Surprise always came out of the blue. Never out of the green or the red or even the fuchsia.

K3R3 was back in black, but had turned yellow and would not invest any further dollops in Z4BO's wild pyramid schemes. He wanted to be able to retire to a nice robot home in

Neo-Florida. That was where all the hip, old robots went these days to shut down in peace. K3R3 decided to head there right that second, he was tired of all this shit.

The moment K3R3 arrived, a David Bowie lookalike greeted him. The doppelganger wore a dapper pink shirt and his hair was perfect. "Hiya!", the doppelganger said as they shook hands

The David Bowie dopplegangers found themselves quickly getting drained of energy from all that incessant dancing. The only reason they stopped was when K3R3 was shot by a passerby.

There was an urge to keep dancing. They wanted to keep dancing, but manners dictated that they had to react to the bleeding man, and with the screams the horror became real, orange