...meh.

[plasticpal]

Well, I suppose since all the fellows from that infernally chipper spaceship are around here, I might as well tag along after them. After all, that's all I'm good for, right? Heaven forbid that a tremendously advanced machine such as myself ever be sent off to do anything important. Why, I'm sure I'd miss a perfectly good opportunity to watch

Comments

[thanitohercules]

*hearty chuckle* Thou seemest a machine much after mine own heart.

The wench dost seem to be flailing and... the term I have of late heard spoken is 'fangirling', no? 'Tis most incomprehensible and embarrassing. She wouldst have thee know, sir, that she had long been entertaining the very thought of creating thee.

Her headspace needs not an increase of woe, however, and as such I thank thy typist most heartily.

[plasticpal]

Fangirling? What has she got to fangirl over? What's the point in taking joy in something that doesn't care a whit for you? If it worked that way, I'd be fawning all over every creature in the Galaxy.

And I'm after nobody's heart, I assure you; that sounds too much like this ridiculous messy "love" business for me.

[thanitohercules]

Dear sir, I... oh.

Oh.

Excuse me, she hath fallen over with...dare I call it squealing? Thou hast spoken to her, and this... this striketh me most ridiculous, but she...

Ay, sir. With thy attentions thou hast slain my wench.

I suspect I should thank thee.

[plasticpal]

Well, from all appearances, she made even less sense than the rest of them, so it's probably for the better. At least she doesn't have to deal with the droning trivialities of the Galaxy any longer. I should be so lucky.

[poormyrtle]

I know how you feel! Nobody cares about me either!

[plasticpal]

She says this like she expects me to.

Trust me, I'd rather be ignored than have my capacities insulted the way I do on a daily basis.

[poormyrtle]

I bet it's just that your capacities are too large for anyone to understand!

[6x9isfortytwo]

Look! It's "Your Plastic Pal Who's Fun to Be With!"
Hullo, Marvin, how are you? You were always one of the more entertaining characters to write...

[plasticpal]

...so this mess is your doing, then?

[6x9isfortytwo]

Ohhh yes. Pleased to see me, then? I thought so...

[_as_you_wish]

Goodness, sir, my typist informs me that you are in fact deceased!

Please explain to her your presence here, as you are a real person and not written into any works of fiction. She doesn't mind, as she loves you and kind of wants to marry you.

[angstingpainter]

Hello, Marvin! *waves* *tries very hard to stop himself from being comforting, because typist says it probably won't help* *is too nice*

I'm certain that people here will like you. Everyone around here seems to be liked by someone, without regard for what the people they like think of them. In fact, I think my typist--

Typist: ! *latches onto MarvinLIEKOMG*

--likes you very much. *detaches her and sends her on her way*

I hope we can all tempt you to be a little less negative in your outlook.

[plasticpal]

*totters a little, and eyes the typist* Thank you kindly for removing that spontaneous tumor. I'm sure I'll get another soon.

I'm afraid I'm rather eminently unlikeable. There are those to whom I've proven endlessly useful, and they don't seem to like me much. I can't imagine I've much hope for impressing anyone else.

[alcoholic_frood]

*glances, does not even bother to say hello*

[plasticpal]

Glad to see I still hold such an esteemed place in your sight.

[alcoholic_frood]

You're being voiced by Alan Rickman, plastic pal. Grow up. Metaphorically, of course. I don't think I could stand a physically bigger ball of angst than you.

[6x9isfortytwo]

Boys. Please. Do at least try to be polite to each other. I wrote you as allies, not enemies.