RoboMD

"Mad Prof Turned My Baby Into a Pot Plant!"

The mother of Aimee Foster, a young college student, made a spectacular accusation Wednesday against "Professor Russum's Wonder Cream", the latest product from Rubicon Ultra-human Research (RUR). Russum, who is a well-known figure on the city’s park benches, where he sleeps rough following the withdrawal of funding for his controversial experiments, is accused of selling a mail-order "superhero" cream from the back pages of comic books.

"My baby tried on Professor Russum’s cream thinking it was her regular brand of moisturizer, and it mutated her into some sort of plant-girl freak!" weeped the hysterical woman, as she showed the amazing Before and After pictures below.

Apparently, it was her boyfriend, Mr Barkings, that had ordered the cream. He has since dumped Ms Foster with these harsh, but fair words: "I can get it on with a pot plant any day I choose." Mr Barkings works at a garden centre.

Professor Russum was unavailable for comment. An RUR spokesperson made the following comment: "It’s all lies. Apart from the sleeping rough on park benches part."

(Memo to Professor Rostum, in his pigeon hole)

Dear Prof. Rossum,

I would like to note, on the record, my dissatisfaction at being assigned to fight crime and patrol the streets of Paragon City, especially as it seems you have assigned me mainly to patrol the streets of the West End, which far from being dens of crime and iniquity seem to be home to the rich and famous, not to mention their attendant throngs of paparazzi. Why, I must have been photographed at least 50 times in the last hour of my patrol last night.

Let me thank you, at least, for the RUR branded promotional cape you gave me as I have been able to protect my delicate optics by holding it up just before a picture is snapped. Your thoughtfulness is sincerely appreciated.

To conclude, it seems to me that I am completely redundant, as Ms. Sabre is more than capable of handling any major criminal activity that occurs, and in general does a salutory job at it. It would seem far more sensible if she could go on doing her thing, and I could go about doing mine.

Also, we need more ceramic pots and potting soil. Some sort of enclosure for the venutian flytraps would be useful too, as their teeth are getting sharp.

Robo, MD

RoboMD settled the duffelbag on his shoulder as he stepped of the USS Santa Maria, and back onto the firm concrete of Independence Port’s pier. The sun shone down on the swaying sea, the seagulls wheeled above in hungry harmony, and RoboMD was back to the only home he knew. The customs man had only given him a second’s careful scrutiny before waving him through; “A robot ain’t a man,” he’d said, “And you’ve got no customs duty due, robot. One careful owner, says your log, and I can see that’s just not true. But I know your name, and I’ve seen your face, so sonny – walk on through.”

Once past the tiny customs building and out onto the dirty streets, Robo scanned the city sky, and counted the capes that flew against the azure sky. His metal heart paced faster as he recognized a few. But the time had passed for fighting crime, and he knew that heroics were no longer something he could do. To fix the wrongs this world contained would take more than winning a desperate battle or two. “It’s knowledge that will change mankind,” thought Robo, “not mighty feats of derring-do.”

“Send No Money Now”, the advert said, “A Super can be you!” The flier’s English was deplorable, but its intention rang true. Robo made his appointment with Professor Rossum with minutes to spare, and walked right into the office to share his secret plan, his hands tight around the duffelbag’s strap, the fragile cargo safely packed.

“I’ve heard of you,” the professor said, “Good ‘bot, how do you do?”

“Fine sir,” replied our alloyed friend, “I’d like to work with you. I want to help you fix those human flaws that heroes have surpassed. I believe that once everyone’s a super, then lasting world peace is sure to come fast.”

“Ahem” coughed Rossum, overtaken by a sudden fit, “Ahem, A-ha, Harum. “ He wheezed heavily, before taking his glasses from his face and wiping them with a crumpled handkerchief he’d stashed in his brown tweed jacket. Then nith a good natured smile he continued, “You know, maybe it’s true. In fact - I’m sure of it! With your good help we’ll cure the world of violence and greed. And even make some money. To invest in charity. Of course.”

RoboMD inclined his head to counter the incredulity he believed he detected in Rossum’s tone.

“Sir, through my experimentation in genetic stimulation, I have made a combination of mutating radiation with the ‘magic’ vegetation that has special connotation to shamanic transformation in of the secret tribes of farthest Burundi.”

With these words the trusty robot extracted several delicate clay pots from the duffel bag he had carefully placed beside his chair. Carefully he selected one of the smallest size, the one with a delightful blue covering of tanned astragurdian lizard, and carefully unsealing the contents of the pot produced the oily cream inside. Professor Rossum leaned much closer, and made to try the ointment. Our Robo hastily pulled the jar away and admonished him.

“It’s a cream, my dear professor, made some special radiation, it will cause a slight mutation, and allow the human to commune with every living plant. Also, beneficially, if used a bit judiciously, it’s slow alimentation will affect the pigmentation of the skin and allow the human body to survive without much food. Sunlight will be nourishing enough!”

“Hurrah” cried the professor, ”Obesity is cured! I’ll call our man in marketing to help design our packaging. Our clients will be lean, mean, photosynthesizing machines!”

“Err, no offence my good Robot.” he added, hoping he had not slurred the kindly robot.

“None taken sir. So, can I stay?” asked our hero, looking around for a suitable place to start his work.

“But of course. Please, walk this way." Rossum took the robots arm in hand, and lead him solicitously to his lab as if he were leading his dear old Nan.

"Now, old chap, have you thought of a name for it? How about ‘Rossum and Robo’s Rejuvenator’? Doesn’t it have a certain ring to it?”