My Pal Clunky

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He and the dog sneezed simultaneously.

“God bless,” muttered the dog.

Ridge Gilby took a step back from the work bench. “Hey, my DogBots aren’t supposed to sneeze,” he said, frowning.

The large chrome-plated robot dog was lying on its side, the panel in its midsection dangling open to allow access to the inner circuitry. “Well, that’s one of the reasons Mr. Dannenberg returned me for this free overhaul.”

Rubbing the plaz handle of the electroscrewer across his slightly plump chin, Gilby said, “It might be better, too, Rex, if you got that snide tone out of your voice.”

“That’s another reason why I’m here,” reminded the silvery Rex. “Didn’t you pay attention to the list of complaints Mr. Dannenberg read off to you? He feels, for instance, that a household guard dog should be self-effacing and obsequious with his employer. He further believes that a robot hound who sneezes uncontrollably will have a tough time sneaking up on possible burglars and thieves. It spoils the element of surprise, while—”

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