Woodstone Ave.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
When the last inventor dies; technology becomes so advanced we can no longer understand it and we rely on it to the point where we are incapable of taking care of ourselves

Submitted: March 24, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 24, 2012




The mansion was luxurious without a doubt, as were all of the ones on Woodstone avenue.  Each home had the same exact color, the same exact marble floors, the same wooden floors, same appliances. Even the people who inhibited each home were the same against the contrast of the dirty lemon walls.

In one random  home, for the details of which home in particular makes no difference in the message addressed, contained a dimwit with drool at the edge of his chin.


"Ughhh what do I do now?" his voice slurred. His pathetic face could not fathom of what action to do next. So a machine told him, "go to the kitchen and eat".

He went. After arriving a mere few paces he was exhausted. His stomach would not allow him to see the new pedicure the machine voice prepared. After a few moments of his lips and eyebrows contorting with confusion the voice machine spoke, "eat".

A metallic sheet emerged from the walls as the aroma of sweet pineapple glazed upon tender chicken breast with a side of mashed potatoes with grains of pepper greeted his nose. Drool escaped the sides of his lips as he began tossing it in his mouth and chewed furiously. In his gluttony chewing would only hinder his hunger, thus he began to swallow chunks hole.

Immediately he spasmed over the wooden floors as he began choking with his hands clenched  over his throat. The gravity in the room shifted to which rose the man to the middle of the room. Forces of nuclear force squeezed him on both sides with rapid succession, he immediately coughed out a chunk of meat. The gravity shifted and allowed him to gracefully return to the floor. As he sat there with a sad pathetic face, the voice machine said, "smile, be happy".

his face twisted as if unwillingly forced itself, as if commanded to expose his pristine teeth. They gleamed and with repetition he began to smile. After a few moments his temporary sanity began to shift as sweat poured across his head and as his teeth began to glare.  The machine voice spoke, "relax. Be happy"

The man relaxed his jaw as lips shut his frustration into complacent idleness.

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