Harold W. McCauley (1941)

    by StephenMcGannon

    10 Comments

    1. radio_recherche on

      So strange. Is she piloting a spaceship in a formal gown and a comfy chair? What is that device exactly, with its somewhat disturbing stick? A space hooka? A vacuum tube powered breath-a-lyzer? Or maybe she’s drawing a dagger. Confused.

    2. Business-Hurry9451 on

      Don’t you just hate it when an alien tries to rob you just when you’re about to take a hit off your bong?

    3. haberdasherhero on

      OMG, my father-unit?!?

      I come home from a hard day in the space mines, praying

      Praying!

      That you have some spiced electron salad. Silicon soup. Anything warm and ready for me. Just so I can take my legs off and simply relax with my partner-unit.

      And I find you here! Iterfacing with my father-unit?!

      I get you everything!

      You want a silicone-skin upgrade? Yes dear. You want a fancy dress like those humans from the ancient tribes? Sure thing.

      And I have to come home and find you with his gold-plated data transfer connector, in the human-o-digit hands that I bought you?!?

      01000010 01101001 01110100 01100011 01101000!?!

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