Art by mail: Overboard protocol

Message on postcard:
Hey dudes! What’s up! This is a postcard from my trip across eastern Oregon. The art here is inspired by a robot prostitute I met in an Old-West-style cowboy town. Whoring opportunities out here are not what they used to be, and rootin’-tootin’ saloons have trouble attracting and retaining lady talent. But robotics experts stepped up in a big way to hap satiate cowboy lust.

So I had saddled up for a drink in the small town of Murder Creek. I heard a clang as a lady sat beside me. She beeped and whistled. “Oh, hello,” I said.

“Howdy, stud,” she said. “Want to have a good … a good … SYSTEM ERROR!!!”

She wept oil tears. It was a hard life out here, I knew.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. The lady machine, whose name was Sexual Lotus Alpha Prime, explained her predicament. Her best hooker buddy, Sugar Hookup, had been dismantled by an angry cattle roper in a fit of rage.

“He had a Sawzall … when I got there, she was nothing more than component parts … there were transistors everywhere. The girls and I raised a ten thousand dollar bounty. Will you … will you find and kill Roper Dan?”

“Holy heck,” I said. “This shit is freaking bonkers. Hell no!”

I finished my drink and hit her power switch. “You might want to replace this unit, barkeep,” I advised. “Its simulation protocol is a bit heavy for us tourists.”

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