Word Count 495
I’d been pretty nervous since the impressive looking legal envelope from Woolover and Petrie arrived in
the mailbox. My playboy Uncle Emerson’s last will and testament was being read to the heirs this
morning and I’m trying to brace myself for the unexpected. I wouldn’t be too happy about having a new
situation rip up my current arrangements because things are pretty smooth right now as single guy if you
know what I mean.
I whistled up a taxi from the curb in front of my apartment house and joined the traffic flow downtown
to where the family had already gathered by the time I got there.
Mr. Petrie approached the podium in the board room reserved for the occasion and cleared his throat for
attention. I knew he had been watching me out of the corner of his eye since I slid in the door, last to
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he began in a slightly tremulous voice. We will be reversing the usual process
of testament revelations and begin with the climax of the document due to complicating circumstances.
Scott, will you approach the podium?”
My imagination was racing at full speed. Was my attitude and expression of self-confidence enough to
cover my feelings? What was the old dog going to do to me from the Great Beyond?
“Scott, your Uncle Emerson has chosen you as the new owner of Clemson, his personal robot. He has
been reduced to storage size but his cubic dimensions multiply in the presence of natural light. Be
prepared for a high IQ, above average height and strength, and oh yes, an emotional side,” he added with
a smirk. “You better practice with the controls before you introduce him to your girlfriend.”
Two staffers approached me with a small black suitcase bound with metal straps and buckles and escorted
me out the door and down the corridor to the elevator.
“Good luck Man. You’re in for some interesting times,” they agreed as I stepped in the cage with my new
inheritance. The suitcase was beginning to vibrate and give off a humming sound.
With the sound effects increasing in volume, I quickly realized I had to get to a safe dark place to keep
my new companion under control. “Viola! A bank vault is just the place…
Taxi! Taxi We were soon in front of the New York City National Bank where I sprinted through the door
and down the stairs to the safe deposit department.
“Quick!” I panted>” I need to rent a drawer.”
The clerk mercifully believed my plea for speed and helped me scribble through the paper work and
throw open a deep drawer behind the vault door. Clemson’s prison, vibrating, humming, and beginning
to split, was thrown into the drawer and slammed shut just as a beam of sunlight filtered through the one
small window in the cellar department.
“Thanks a million Uncle Emerson” The last laugh isn’t going to be on me! ~”