As we entered the nursery, my motherboard began to tingle . I thought we were walking to freedom, but we might as well have been walking to our deaths. After all, Baby Jake, Codename Baby Brute, did rule this part of the Smith household with an iron fist. He had caused us terror and sadness, giving us RPTS Disorder (Remote Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). Yes, it exists. We begin shivering at the thought of him, sparks fly out of our batteries, and - wait. This is too much information for mere humans.
Anyway, iPhone the Sixth had just prised open the door using fishing line, and we were behind enemy lines. We crawled across the floor to avoid being seen by Baby Jake. AC Controller, my partner in crime, found a large collection of bibs to cover ourselves with. And not a sound was made.
At least until iPhone started ringing. A full scale ringing that appeared to be the sound of pianos playing out of tune chords.
“Darn it!” I muttered, taking a closer look at iPhone. Mr Smith’s (Codename Big Kahuna) elderly mother (Codename Mrs Tortoise) was calling. She, as I knew from experience, would get angry at almost anything. One time, when I lost signal from the TV, she sent the Apple TV remote flying through the window. Poor Apple, she hadn’t done anything wrong!
However, if Mr Smith didn’t answer the call, there was a ninety percent chance she’d have a heart attack. But, as much as she hurt us, we meant no harm to her. So I put on my best Mr Smith voice and spoke to his mother.
“Mum?” I said in a deep voice. “What’s the matter?”
“Dear Hercules,” she said in a high-pitched rasp. Our jaws dropped. His name was Hercules Smith!?!?!?! “I wanted to tell you that your father and I are coming down from the airport. We’ll be arriving at your house in fifteen minutes.”
Great, I thought. Now we have gran and gramps coming to town. Hopefully we’d have escaped by then.
“Okay, mum,” I replied. “Love you and see you soon.”
“Love you to-“
I ended the call, the issue having been dealt with. However, I looked up to find AC pointing in horror towards the crib. A large - or small, depending on how big you are - problem arose. Baby Jake… was awake.
(Hey, that rhymes!)