R.O.K>lobster

Once upon a time there was a battery operated man. He had several batteries in him, which would drain to their own schedules.
He could recharge easy enough through any normal power outlet, although, he was from a different place and so needed an adaptor plug to connect. He always left it at home because it felt nauseating to carry it ’round.
Once all his batteries ran out at once. After completing the loop-ride 18 times he was found by someone who was able to read and carry out the instructions hanging around his neck in a little clear plastic envelope.
“Please kindly return this battery operated man to _____ ____ _-_-_ in case of power failure.”

Then one day he met this surly but dainty gal. She was standing behind the counter of an icecream outlet imitation, patting icecream down into flat moon-ocean beds like some cosmic cosmic.
In a rural accent she squawked hello and how are you without meaning it, looking him in the eye or smiling. The battery couldn’t understand her at all. And unlike all the others, she refused to learn a language that wasn’t hers.

Yet they were drawn together. She to his indescribably beastly looks and pocket money, and he to her pouty bottom lip and FUCK OFF attitude. She may well have been half his age but that didn’t matter because it wasn’t like that at all.

Together they’d do stuff like walk right over the tops of stationary cars in the traffic-jammed rain-sodden fish-funk streets.
On the subway, they laughed at a young woman who was crying and obviously suffering from acute toothache because she was holding a cold-pac to her jaw.
At the gigantro LotteMart supremarket they grabbed a hammer from one section and used it to pound a hole through the side-bottom glass of a large tank. Spilling out cam plenty of water, and ten whopping rock lobsters with main-shells as big as your both hands fisted together. The lobsters went berzerk snapping at shoppers.

They ran away and ate pilfered icecream.

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