Week 18: Keep It Safe

 

Idol Mini-Season 2018-19
Week: 18
Topic: Keep It Safe 

ZABOR THE ROBOT 

“It’s an earthquake!” thought Mom. 

The room was rocking, with books and pictures falling off the shelves and smashing on the floor.  She started to wake up, and the nightmare vanished.  One eye opened enough to see the clock: it was 4:47 – on Saturday morning.  The room was dark and someone was shaking her shoulder.  

“Quit it,” she mumbled. 

The shaking got worse. 

“Mommm!  Wake up!”  

The shaking had a voice.  She made a big mistake and opened both her eyes.  It was Stanley, and he had a big pot on his head.  

“Can I use this for my alien robot?” he whispered.  “It’s the perfect size.  Please?”  

The pot gave his voice a slightly metallic sound.  

“No!” Mom thought, “I will not . . . .”  

The rest didn’t matter; after all, it was Stanley, he had a pot on his head, and that was enough.  The pot should have been in the kitchen and he should have been in bed. 

When Stanley put things on his head, it never went well.  One time, he had worn a football helmet made out of half a watermelon rind because his regular helmet had been made into the Thought Transfer Machine, but that’s for another time.  

“Mommm,” pleaded Stanley, “can I make the robot?  Pleeeease?” 

“Shhhh!” whispered his mother, “don’t wake Dad.  Go to the kitchen.” 

He ran out of the bedroom, banging his head against the dresser.  He had chosen a particularly noisy pot for his robot head, which did not, as yet, have any eye holes. 

“I bet Dad’s got a drill in the basement,” he whispered. 

Mom hurried after him, pulling her robe around her.  

As a safety precaution, Dad had put a lock on the basement door.  They had learned the hard way that keeping their son away from tools was a good idea, although the lock now had several scratches.  Stanley, who was not easily discouraged, had kept trying to break in.  

When Mom opened the door to the kitchen, she could see that, sadly, Stanley had been busy.  Pots and pans were scattered everywhere.  It was going to be a very long day. 

“I didn’t know he could reach the blender,” she thought, her shoulders drooping.  “I’ll have to move it higher.” 

The thought of Stanley with a blender made her shudder. 

“What time did you get up?” Mom finally asked with a weary voice. 

“Zabor does not recognize time.  Zabor is from the Fifth Dimension,” said Stanley from under the pot, with a flat, mechanical voice. 

“How much Earth time did Zabor use tearing apart my kitchen?” asked Mom, fully awake at last. 

“Only a few Earth minutes,” he answered, and then pointed to an open cupboard.  “That smells like the goo you call strawberry jam.” 

“That’s because my son spilled it when he used it for blood when he was Vasily, the mad scientist, and he tried to make a teddy bear come alive,” said Mom. 

“Vasily is famous on my home world,” said Zabor.  “He is the genius who invented the Time Gate that allowed Zabor to enter your defenseless universe.” 

“It’s time for Zabor to get to work,” said Mom.  “Take off that pot and pick up the kitchen.” 

“Zabor’s power level is too low,” said Zabor.  “I must recharge.” 

Stanley raised the pot enough to see and picked a fork off the floor, then headed for an electrical outlet, arm out, beeping as he went. 

All the outlets were still child-proofed, but Mom knew better than to trust them.  She quickly grabbed the fork from Zabor’s hand, then picked up a spoon and started to drum on his head.  The pot made a satisfying noise. 

“Ow!!!  Stop!!!” said Zabor. 

“Mom the Magnificent has used her spoon gun to penetrate Zabor’s armor,” she said.   “I’m going to make an Earth breakfast of pancakes before he goes back to the Fifth Dimension, after he puts everything away.” 

Stanley loved pancakes with extra-extra syrup so he quickly took off the pot and started to pick up the pans, silverware, the blender (“I needed the motor,” he said), as well as the tape and batteries scattered around. 

After cleaning up, Stanley sat down and his mother brought him a big stack of pancakes, his favorite breakfast, unless it was waffles, another favorite, or French toast, or pretty much anything except oatmeal.  He needed a lot of fuel and wasn’t too particular.  Stanley was an enthusiastic eater, especially at breakfast. 

“I probably shouldn’t have made pancakes,” thought Mom.  “With all that syrup, he’ll be in overdrive.” 

Most people thought Stanley lived in overdrive, but his parents knew that was just regular Stanley.  Overdrive Stanley usually wound up confined to his bedroom until the sugar wore off.  

“I’m going to build the best robot ever with that pot,” said Stanley. 

“Don’t talk while you’re chewing,” said Mom. 

“I’ll cover it in armor and it’ll have a jet pack,” said Stanley, not hearing her.  “Death rays will shoot from its eyes, and it’ll do whatever I tell it.  I’m going to have it blast the school, so you won’t have to make me a lunch Monday!” 

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” said Mom after a Category 2 sigh. 

Dad liked to rate Mom’s sighs.  Category 2 meant “I really don’t want to deal with this right now.” 

“More pancakes,” intoned Stanley, who had put the pot back on his head, after he demolished his first stack.  “Zabor finds this Earth food satisfactory.” 

“Zabor needs to learn Earth manners and say ‘please,’” said Mom. 

She had a collection of cardboard boxes in the basement which they kept for Stanley Projects.  It wouldn’t be too hard to create a robot costume.  Even without the jet pack and death ray, she knew he’d have fun, although she would have to make his lunch on Monday.  Blasting the school wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

“. . . and my kitchen will be safe,” she thought with a Category 1 sigh, “for now.” 

In the meantime, Zabor needed more fuel.  It was now 5:34 a.m. Earth time and the sun was beginning to rise. 

“The sun is creating a new opening in the Time Gate back to the Fifth Dimension,” said Mom.  “Zabor needs to finish his pancakes and make sure he can return.  Where did Zabor first enter our universe?” 

“In the bedroom of the one you call Stanley,” intoned Zabor. 

“Then Zabor must return to that spot for the Time Gate,” said Mom.  “Once you are fully recharged, I will show you the way, but you must hurry!” 

After Stanley was done, they walked down the hall to his bedroom, hand in hand.  He was still wearing the pot.  When they got to his room, he beeped a few times, then handed the pot to Mom.  She gave it back to him. 

“Zabor will need this for his return trip,” she said.  She could get the pot later.  It was sturdy enough to survive Stanley for a while, she hoped. 

As usual, his bedroom looked like a real earthquake had hit it, with toys, books, and who-knew-what scattered around. 

“Don’t make any noise until your father gets up,” said Mom.  “Miracles do happen,” she thought, leaving his room. 

After shutting the door, she heard him announce excitedly “the Time Gate is opening!” 

A bright light flashed under the door and everything was quiet. 

“Time for some coffee and the newspaper,” thought Mom as she walked back to the kitchen, wondering how long the silence would last.  For now, the world was safe from her Stanley. 

* * * * * 

There are three earlier stories about Stanley.
“The Teddy Bear Detective”
https://rayaso.livejournal.com/22954.html
“Home on the Range”
https://rayaso.livejournal.com/26263.html
“The Mars Expedition”
https://rayaso.dreamwidth.org/1771.html