Saturday, May 20, 2006

Robosaurus: Behind the CARnivore!

Most people see a giant metal robot who eats cars and other passenger vehicles as simply a monster with no conscience. What they don't understand is that there is a sensitive being behind that beast and I was determined to let the world know it.

I met with Robosaurus at his favorite Sunday morning hangout: a small cafe on Manhattan's Upper West Side. When I first arrived, I immediately understood why people hold so many misconceptions about Robosaurus. He had just pulled a small airplane from the sky and begun to devour it while shooting flames from his powerful jaws.
Do you mind putting that out?
Robosaurus: Sorry about that. It's my dinosaur slash robot instincts. Sometimes I forget that this is taboo in today's society.

Today's society? It's kind of always been...

RS: Not really. There was a brief period of time, right after the Paleolithic era, when my dino-robot ancestors ruled the planet. Only when the great meteor hit and killed off all of the natural automobile trees that once covered the earth, did we begin to die out.

You fancy yourself quite a historian, don't you?
RS: Well, I try. I mean, once you've eaten somebody's Honda Civic, it's hard to win them back, but sometimes, if I can explain to them the Treaty of Ghent, they consider the entire situation a wash. It's all I have.

You're being modest, it's not all you have. You're quite a renowned poet.
RS: Renowned? I don't know, but I do like to write. I wrote this one recently after a breakup.


And that's all I've got so far. It's a work in progress.

One single, giant tear fell from his hybrid eyeball as he relayed his intimate work to me. He thought I didn't notice, but I did. The baby it landed on drowned in a pool of oil and dinosaur sweat.

What's your proudest accomplishment to date?
RS: A lot of people would probably think I would say eating Bigfoot. That was cool and all, but, it had to be the birth of my child.

I didn't know you had a child.
RS: Yeah. It's kind of been kept under wraps by the mother, a Pepsi machine in the midwest.

How did you two meet?
RS: How I've met most of my romantic interests. It was a Sunday, Sunday, Sunday (ed. note: As he says this, he is completely unaware he is doing it. It is this reporter's conclusion that he believes that that is what the day of the week is actually called--I wasn't about to correct him; he eats planes) and I had gotten off work. It was late and I was hungry. Contrary to what people may think, the vehicles that I eat during a show are empty calories. They're stripped of all their nutritious parts like engines, mufflers, and carburetors. So I needed something with substance. I headed to this nearby college campus to check out the nightlife and to grab a bite. I had just finished eating a Sobe machine--which is a bad idea because it gives me the runs--and I looked up to see her there. She was beautiful. Her lights were all on and her selection buttons were in all the right places. She definitely wasn't out of anything.

After that night, we were inseperable. She toured with me.

I actually heard something about this now that I think of it. There was a story I read in the paper about an incident you had with a guy.
RS: Yeah. Those were dark days. I'm a jealous guy. I'm not going to lie to you. I guess it's a little stereotypical: giant, half-machine, half 100-million-year-old creature, tiny self-esteem.

So I come backstage after putting on what I felt was a pretty entertaining show and I see this roadie pushing my girl's Sierra Mist button. Who does that?

Somebody who's thirsty.
RS: Well...maybe, but I was incensed and blinded by rage. So I picked him up, set him on fire, and ate him in front of his wife and child. It turns out he wasn't a roadie, but a guy who was trying to buy a soda for his thirsty son.

Luckily, once I explained to them how a bill becomes a law, they were totally cool with me.

So what do you like to do in your spare time, Robosaurus?
RS: Gosh, that's a tough one. I mean, I don't get much spare time. It's always, "Eat this car. Set this motorcycle on fire." But I do like to watch TV. Have you seen Lost? It blows my mind, man. How did that goddamn polar bear get on the island? Will the castaways discover that Michael actually killed Ana-Lucia and Libby? And why are all their lives mysteriously intertwined? I can't get enough of it. Oh, and America's Next Top Model.

Thanks for your time, Robosaurus. I think you've definitely dispelled some myths today.
RS: That's what I was trying to accomplish. Thank you.

He picked up a passing bus and placed it in his jaws. Then, with a wink to me, he set it back down and let it on its merry way. Robosaurus, you adorable bastard.


Phil said...

Robosaurus is fun for the whole family!

Kaitlynd said...

I stumbled across this blog almost a year ago looking for surveys, and I haven't been able to stop reading (thats how slow I am).

I had to laugh at the comment "how did the polar bear get on the damn island?" that was the first thing my mom said. We have a theory that it's like Inspector Gadget, with the villian that you never see the face of.