Rob Dircks

They just stood there. In the dark. On his grass. Three punks. They were always there, roaming the streets, kicking over trash cans, spray painting the train underpass, throwing eggs on Halloween, a stain on his otherwise bucolic Ridgewood, New Jersey neighborhood.

Listen, having kids is great, my little Gigi Collins and Pete’s daughter Hannah are sweet little fluffs of cotton candy, spun from the silk of fairy spiders who live in the clouds. But man, can they cause trouble....

Back when I started this project, I was thinking what the heck, writing a few short stories will keep me fresh, let me try things I might not try otherwise, act as a sketch book of my story ideas....

I found the journal at work. Well, I don't know if you'd call it work, but that's where I found it. It's the lost journal of Nikola Tesla, one of the greatest inventors and visionaries ever....

I don't know what the humans are so cranky about. Their enclosures are large, they ingest over 1,000 calories per day, and they're allowed to mate. Plus, they have me: an Autonomous Servile Unit, housed in a mobile/bipedal chassis. I do my job well: keep the humans healthy and happy.

Something called the “Blue Juice" is coming. For all of us. Luckily, me (Chip Collins), Pete, Nikola Tesla, Bobo, and FBI Agent Gina Phillips are here to kick its ass, and send it back to last Tuesday. Maybe. Or maybe we'll fail, and everyone in the multiverse is doomed....