Rabbie the Robot tells me things, from stories to amusing incidents that occurred in his past lives. He isn’t simply a small and cute clock but a repository of tales. Tales told not with lips but minds- conveyed onward through his mechanical workings into my head where I listen with delight, whether while sitting at my computer working or lying on my bed during the afternoon or shortly before bed.
There was the story about the man at the apocalypse, upset at the manner people were being divided between heaven and hell and how it contradicted the life he had had and the way it had been governed. “Where is the jury of my peers?” he asked as devils dragged him kicking and screaming to hell.
And one, a sort of bad rhyme, about a lost bear who made his life in a strange new world, eventually becoming its king for a year. Rabbie wasn’t sure, though, as to why his reign had ended: maybe a vicious overthrowing, potentially the end of his agreed tenure, perhaps his death. Rabbie does not know.
A sad-but-hopeful tale of a woman burning items collected during a recently ended relationship in order to find a way forward and to start to file away the still painful thoughts and memories.
And one about five schoolboys in trouble before their headmaster, who knows his is to punish but cannot help but respect the way they flooded the dreaded gym with a cunningly crafted system of pipes.
There was the story about the man at the apocalypse, upset at the manner people were being divided between heaven and hell and how it contradicted the life he had had and the way it had been governed. “Where is the jury of my peers?” he asked as devils dragged him kicking and screaming to hell.
And one, a sort of bad rhyme, about a lost bear who made his life in a strange new world, eventually becoming its king for a year. Rabbie wasn’t sure, though, as to why his reign had ended: maybe a vicious overthrowing, potentially the end of his agreed tenure, perhaps his death. Rabbie does not know.
A sad-but-hopeful tale of a woman burning items collected during a recently ended relationship in order to find a way forward and to start to file away the still painful thoughts and memories.
And one about five schoolboys in trouble before their headmaster, who knows his is to punish but cannot help but respect the way they flooded the dreaded gym with a cunningly crafted system of pipes.
Note: In a more or less self-obsessed manner (or a way to create a story for a deadline), this stories of Rabbie's relate to ones I had already written. I have linked each to its original.
This is Rabbie the Robot, a gift from wife a few birthdays back:
I also wrote about Rabbie here, including a tribute to Sorry I've Got No Head's Museum of Imagination.
