Ryes of the Robots Extended Cut
Serve the Drinks, Save the World
FADE IN:
INT. PILES' SECRET UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - NIGHT
A cavernous workshop. Disused android husks litter the floor.
A DRINKSLINGER 3000 ROBOTIC BARTENDER stands behind a bar. JOSS PILES, bald head gleaming, conducts a test.
DRINKSLINGER 3000
(synthesized staccato)
What will it be?
JOSS
I'll take one Mechanized Manhattan.
The Drinkslinger moves with jerky precision, mixing up a perfect cocktail. Hands it to his creator.
Joss takes a sip. Nods approval. He peers around.
JOSS
Make me a Robot Smash.
The Drinkslinger picks up a glass, reaches for a bottle or rye and freezes. Lights on its face blink frantic patterns.
DRINKSLINGER 3000
Would you like that neat or on the rocks?
JOSS
Rocks, of course.
The Drinkslinger raises its steel fists in the air, smashes the bar into splinters. Lasers shoot from its eyes, glass shatters, sparks fly.
JOSS
(menacingly)
Good, Robot. Very good.
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