This job was not worth $10.50 and hour with no benefits. Josh Miller wheeled his '99 Pontiac Grand Am up to what looked like the entrance of a giant city and tried to tell the fast-talking guard what he was doing there.

"IhavetoinspectitfirstthenI'lldeliverittohim-"

"Let me see it," the smaller, yellow one cheerfully offered after Josh protested that he had to present it himself.

"Okay, sure, whatever." The only reason Josh had this assignment was that his boss had overheard him tell someone that Optimus Prime saved him from a building fire a long time ago. His boss was an idiot to think a minor interaction almost a decade ago meant he knew how to find his way through a giant city of Autobots to talk to a different leader altogether. "Do you guys know where his office is?"

The guards exchanged glances. "I'll take him. I just need to call your work to make sure you're who you say you are." They had a list of delivery people, but this particular enterprise was a first. Once the one who introduced himself as Bumblebee had called his boss, as well as the chief of police, and the FBI, and his grandmother's ex-sorority formal date, etc., Josh was told to follow the yellow Volkswagen to the center of Tower 6.

Josh, upon the fast-talker's request, turned his radio to 97.9 to hear Bumblebee tell those stationed at Tower 6 to anticipate a delivery man. They demanded to know who sent him. Josh rolled his window down once they'd reached the door and told them that this was ordered online, and the name and e-mail address wished to be anonymous, except for the name on the card. They didn't want to let him in, until they called his boss and the chief of police (AGAIN?) to make sure that this was a legitimate explanation to their inquiries.

"Jesus Christ on a pogo stick!" Josh fumed to the steering wheel as he turned the car off and popped the trunk. "I'm delivering a freakin' FLOWER BOUQUET!"

Bumblebee walked him to the door, after offering to explain to Rodimus what this was about. One of the guards warned him to be careful. "He's still acting like he's got a nail in his tire."

Josh watched Bumblebee ring the intercom and felt nervous. Dealing with big nasty robots made the upside of this job hard to see. Ten bucks and fifty cents an hour, no benefits, barely adequate compensation for his mileage...it still didn't pay for tuition, books, the dorm, and his beer. Usually people loved getting flowers. The key word was "people." If this Rodimus Prime was as bad as the other robots had been, he wanted to go back to his job writing trashy romance novels for a third-rate publishing company.

"WHAT?"

It snarled like the wrathful beast in "Return of the Jedi." Josh cleared his throat. "FTD."

"What?"

"Rodimus, it's me, Bumblebee. This kid's bringing you flowers."

"What..." The door flung open forcefully to reveal a perplexed Prime. The deep lines on his face disappeared in confusion as he accepted the conflagration of roses that dwarfed the deliverer but barely fit the palm of the recipient. A small smile crept up on his face as he looked at them.

"Ten dozen dark red, one dozen of our 'golden moments' color," (those cost $20 a stem) Josh recited as Rodimus looked them over, blanching at their scent.

"Who sent them?" he asked. Josh told him it should say on the card, to which the Autobot leader informed was too small for him to hold; could HE do the honors?

This was not worth what he was getting, after taxes.

Josh read the signature. "It's signed 'Sweetie.' Whatever that means." He wasn't going to get a tip, so why should he care?

Rodimus' small smile widened to a happy beam as he placed the flowers on his overflowing desk. A chuckle rumbled out. "Sweetie. That's too much." He opened a drawer in his desk, pulling out a wallet and handing Josh a fifty dollar bill. "Bumblebee, I almost forgot. Spike left his wallet here last week. Tell him I owe him fifty bucks."

Josh protested, on the grounds that he 'technically' couldn't accept tips, that this was an exorbitant amount of money, and it was SOMEBODY else's. Bumblebee led him out of the office, assuring him it was okay (Spike was used to this kind of thing), that the tip was for all the harassment and extra effort it took to get here. He got another twenty from the yellow mech, to his surprise.

"There's more if you tell me who sent those," he whispered as two large Autobots approached from the other end of the hallway. "Quick! Before those guys get here."

Josh admitted he had no idea. His boss handled the online orders. Bumblebee was completely perplexed, because none of them had credit cards, they would have had to go through Kup or Jazz to get that kind of access, blah blah blah. Josh tuned him out as the light above him was blocked.

The other two robots had come up by now: one gray and red and gold with no face, just a visor and a plate, while the other one had wings and a smile that reminded Josh of his golden retriever.

"Anyway, thanks for cheering him up like that. I haven't seen him smile in weeks."

"Always happy to be of service," replied Josh, to be ironic. Satire amused him.

"Hey..." the voice lowered as the mech leaned in, to close out the enormous eavesdroppers walking quietly behind them. "If you get a name, let me know. Just call the main office and leave a message for Bumblebee."

"Sure." The Volkswagen waited for him to get into his car before rolling out. Before Josh could turn his key, the winged Autobot, one of the two who followed them out of the hallway, stepped in front of the gray Pontiac, hand up and optics glittering.

"He like it?"

Nosy group of dudes, these Autobots were. Josh leaned out of his door, hoping in the delay he wouldn't lose Bumblebee in this maze of buildings. "Yeah. It made him smile."

The interrogator squealed, looking up at his faceless associate. "He smile!"

"See!" If he could grin the large metal monster would have. "Like me Grimlock say Jazz tell me, Primes dig flowers."