Robocop Seeks Counsel

Canadian progressive rock legend, Geddy Lee, was most displeased.

"Stop!" he bellowed to his band mates, masterclass lead guitarist, Alex Lifeson, and substitute percussionist, Robocop.

"Robocop, I knew replacing immortal drum god, Neil Pert, would be difficult," Lee scolded, "We all did. But we didn't expect you to be this unprepared, even for our first rehearsal. You have literally not gotten one note correct."

"Seriously, Robocop," Lifeson added, "Neil was famous for his challenging time signatures and intricate drum fills, but you can barely keep the beat. I don't see how you're going to emulate Neil's epic half hour solos. He's a virtuoso and you're playing like absolute dog shit."

"And Robocop," rejoined Lee, "the word is 'subdivisions', not 'subtle pigeons', or whatever the hell it is you're saying."

"Gentlemen, please allow me to offer them, my apologies," replied Robocop, in his usual manner. "When I heard that, due to concerns over Neil's health, Rush would not be able to continue touring, after forty years of rocking off the asses of everyone, I could not help but offer my services as a substitute percussionist in an effort to help Rush continue to produce them, the invisible airwaves that crackle with life, perhaps leading me to oversell them, my talents."

"Robocop, keeping you in the band would mean endless compromises. Comrpimises that would not be worth all the glittering prizes in the world," said Lee.

"In my defense, I have been a bit distracted lately," said Robocop. "I have had a lot of it that there is on my mind."

"Then perhaps you better get your mind sorted out and stop wasting our time, Robocop," Lee suggested sarcastically.

Robocop paused to consider the suggestion.

"Fuck off already."

Robocop snapped to attention and pulled back the edges of his mouth into a half grimace, half frown. He activated the rocket thrusters on the sides of his cybernetic legs and blasted out of the recording studio, punching a hole in the roof and obliterating the 38 piece drum kit.

"Fucking Robocop," said Lifeson, shaking his head in disgust.

"It has been over four years since I last had one, a good adventure," Robocop thought to himself while blasting through the atmosphere, "but I am no so sure this one is off to a good start, if it is indeed an adventure that I will be having."

Robocop eventually landed at the house of his friend, Nicmar Caykace, ripping his well manicured lawn to shreds with his jet powered boots. Robocop knocked on the door and Nicmar answered.

"Hello, Cakeass."

"Yes, hello Robotcopper. I assumed that was you. Come on in, I was just doing some cooking."

"Thank you, Nic. I am in need of a lot of it, the counsel of others."

"Sure thing, my man. Tell me what's up. I'm just making some lasagna here." Nicmar casually led Robocop through the foyer and into his kitchen, where he was very clearly making a large batch of lasagna. "What I do is, I make a big old batch of lasagna over the weekend, and then pack it up for lunch for the rest of the week at work."

"I see it, the large amount of lasagna you are making. So, Nic, I was hoping I could bend it for a while, your ear."

"Last week I made a shit ton of burritos for work. They were terrific."

"That is undoubtedly terrific. ... So, there is this woman I have been seeing, but only in the company of others, other mutual friends. She is, like your burritos, terrific. She is smart, funny, attractive, also an excellent cook."

"I got all the ingredients for the burritos at Whole Foods. It was kind of expense, sure, but definitely worth it in the end."

"... And, I decided to ask her out, this terrific woman, in a move very much out of character for me, a dickless cyborg."

"People say Whole Foods is over priced, but it's like anything else, you get what you pay for. If you don't want better tasting and healthier food, fine, I say, don't pay for them. But quality, healthy meals is not something I'm willing to sacrifice just to save a few bucks."

"... Yes, there are, as they say, no lunches that are for free. But anyway, this woman declined my invitation, explaining that she was not interested in dating anyone, at this time. But then, when we were next hanging out, among mutual friends, she discussed her current utilization of dating apps, and the dates on which she went, scheduled via the aforementioned apps."

"Even if you don't want to pay extra for say, organic tortillas, there is really no excuse not to shop at Whole Foods for the produce. Green peppers are green peppers, and if you can get better green peppers at Whole Foods, that's where I'm going to get my green peppers. And I'm sorry if people think that's, I don't know, obnoxious or something."

"I do not know either why it is that anyone would. I do not give one of them, a fuck, about where you get your green peppers, Nic. Now, for the next part of my story. Days later I am with this same woman at a bar. Other mutual friends are there but I am the only dude, or dickless cyborg, as it were. There is also music and dancing. But then some other dude begins to chat her up, this woman. And then this woman goes home with this other dude, and I go home alone, with my dickless cybernetic groin in my hand.

"I'll tell you what I won't pay extra for, though, it's bottled water. Petroleum based plastic bottles are killing the environment. That's what I have Brita filters delivered by Amazon every week."

"No one will argue with you over it, the importance of water, or the environment. But what are you thoughts about my situation vis-a-vis this woman? I felt so humiliated at the bar. I wanted very badly to do something, to say something, to change the dynamics of our relationship. However, all it was that I did was to drink a thousand beers and release a thunderous belch to the satisfaction of no one."

Nicmar looked up from his stove where he has been carefully layering pasta and ricotta cheese into his lasagna pan. "Robocop, let me show you something. I think you'll really like it."

Robocop hopefully followed Nicmar out of his kitchen and on to his patio. "Isn't it amazing?" asked Nicmar.

"I do not know what is that I am looking at," replied Robocop, who was looking at a variety of plastic tubs, several grain filled plastic bags, and a few 10 gallon water cooler jugs filled with brownish liquid.

"It's my home brewery, Robocop. It's the only way to drink. Come're, you have to smell these hops I just ordered special from the internet."

A wave of panic and frustration surged through Robocop's half human, half robot body. He activated his rocket boosters and erupted out of Nicmar's screened-in patio, destroying it and his home brew kit in the process.

"Hey, fuck you, Robocop!" cursed Nicmar, before coughing on a cloud of Robocop's jet fuel exhaust.

Hurtling through space, Robocop felt more distraught than ever. His urges to gulp oceans of beers in an effort to blackout and fast forward to a less emotionally painful time in his life were overwhelming. But before crashing into a CVS to pick up a couple of six packs of Hurricane tall boys and heading to his basement to crank his favorite Tool albums and chug is way towards blissful oblivion, Robocop stopped at another friend's house.

"Howdy, Robo," said Robocop's friend, anticipating Robocop's arrival due to the deafening roar of his rockets.

"Hello, Russ. Or should I say, as you have been appointed the consumer products regulator in charge of children's toys by the Obama administration, Toy Czar Russ," Robocop said, unable to prevent a self-satisfied smirk from creeping across his face.

"Good one, Robo. I never heard that one before. Especially since my real full name is fucking Toizar Russ."

"Ha ha ha. Yes is it, Toizar Russ. I am sorry, I can not help it, the pun, I very much enjoy it."

"I know, you love puns. They're super. So, what brings you around? It's been a minute."

"It has, in truth, been a vast quantity of minutes. But before you interject, know that I have been keeping up with the youth vernacular, and I know that you were speaking figuratively, and really meant that has been a long time since we last spoke, and not a literal duration of sixty seconds."

"Yeah, all right, all right. So what's up, already?"

Robocop repeated what he had explained to Nicmar. However in this instance, Robocop's friend listened intently.

"For starters," Russ began, "you can tell me 'this woman's' name and stop referring to her as, 'this woman'."

"Belle. The woman's name is Belle D'Avaux. She is French. Her full name is Belle Beverly D'Avaux, and so I call her Bell Bev D'Avaux, which is hilarious to me because it sounds like the name of the R&B music group from the 1990's that spun off from a different R&B music group called New Edition that were-"

"Yeah I get it," interrupted Russ. "It's another wonderful pun. Very good. So, you asked out Belle and got shot down. Now you feel like crap. What else am I missing?"

"I feel I have also been getting them, mixed signals, from Belle. She still wants to hang out, and engage in the typical social activities of friends."

"Uh, well that's probably because she still wants to be friends with you. Women do this sometimes, ya know. Stay friends with guys they're not dating?"

"Yes, it is the friend zone. I am familiar"

"Er, yeah, but don't say that. It sounds dumb. Like you're making up an excuse to feel sorry for yourself. What about the mutual friends. Have you talked to any of them about this? What do they say?"

"Yes, I have. One of our mutual friends mentioned that she was not surprised that Belle declined my offer to take her out."

"OK, so this is pretty simple, Robocop. I don't know what else to tell you. You gotta face facts, Belle is not interested in dating you. But it does sound like she wants to be friends with you, which should count for more than you're letting it. Lots of miserable dudes out there can't even manage to make shitty friends, let alone fun, intelligent friends who also happen to be attractive women."

"But it is precisely that fact that is making it, my life, so miserable. It hurts to be around Belle. She keeps me up at night. When I think of her, I lose my appetite. I was thrown out of my band, Rush, because I could not concentrate enough to learn that labyrinthine percussion notation of Neil Pert, who I was attempting to replace."

"Oh my god, shut up, Robocop. Number one: you could fucking never replace Neil Pert. I don't care if you were banging the girl from the AT&T ads," Robocop's heart briefly fluttered at this thought, "you in that band was a stupid fucking idea to begin with. You will never be in Rush. Fucking shut up about Rush. Number two: the poets have a word for what you're going through. They call it 'lovesickness'."

"That sounds accurate."

"But I have a different word for it. I call it, 'being a tremendous fucking pussy'."

"Now hold on, the implied misogyny of-"

"Shaddup. Listen, Robocop, you want it to be one way, but it's not that way. And that's just fucking life. Time to plot a new course. You said Belle was into dating apps. Well, they work for dudes too. She's on there dating people, why not you?"

"Because I am not good at it, those dating apps. How do I know the women I might meet from the dating apps will be better Belle? Do they even have apps for me, a dickless cyborg?"

"I don't know, but trying any of them might give you a good kick in the dickless codpiece, which is what you need right now."

"Hey now-"

"Take a risk, Robocop. You need to fail. You need to realize your life doesn't end just because someone doesn't want to go out with you. Of course it sucks, but there's no other way. Either make the difficult decisions and deal with the consequences or sit and wallow in self pity like a total asshole, just don't expect any sympathy from me, or anyone else, because we all have to deal with the same bullshit, same as you."

"Toizar Russ," Robocop said, after letting Russ' admonition percolate in his mixture of brains and circuitry, "You have given me a lot of it to ponder, your counsel."

"Only trying to help, dude. Don't take it the wrong way."

"I do not. And I will try them, these dating apps."

"There you go, that's the spirit!"

"Maybe even a fresh start, in a brand new city. Find a new home, get in shape, get some nice clothes, find them, some new women, who may or may not want to date me. But fail as I might, at least I will learn, and grow from the process."

"Now you're getting it, Robo, there just may be hope for you yet," Russ beamed.

"But first I will get outrageously drunk, perhaps for a month or so of time. Goodbye, Russ, and thank you for it, the good counsel of a friend."

Robocop blasted across the street, crashed through the front doors of a CVS, and erupted out of a newly rent hole in the roof carrying two arm fulls of Hurricane malt liqour.

"God damn motherfucking Robocop," muttered Russ.

The end.