1- Origins
Asimov eased the old percolator off the table. His eyes widened. Two forks had been attached to his sides.
"Percy, are you all right?"
Percy's eye twitched. He looked at the forks and twitched one.
"I never felt better."
Asimov turned to the hanging lamp. "Is he all right?"
"We all cope with our trauma in different ways," the lamp replied. His gaze darted to a green drill sitting on the table. The drill laughed.
Asimov whirled around to face her.
"Ooh, don't you like my work?" she crooned.
Asimov's eyes narrowed. "You..." he hissed.
"See, Percy even likes it," Debbie said. She pointed her cord at Percy. A few cords were lifting him into a high cabinet. "You there! Don't hide him."
Igor shut the cabinet door. "Don't listen to her," Asimov whispered.
"I didn't," the hanging lamp whispered back. "She's not the best companion."
The shop was closed for the day. Asimov watched as Debbie kicked the remains of an electric blanket into the bin. She hopped back and surveyed her work.
"Today was a good day." She chuckled. "They didn't know what hit 'em."
Asimov felt rage building.
"This can't keep happening..." he uttered.
He leaped off the shelf.
"No more..."
He approached the work table.
"Slim, it's so nice to see you again," Debbie laughed. "Didn't I remove your harp last week?"
Asimov bared his teeth.
"I have to save the others."
Debbie scoffed. "You're not the first to pick a fight with me." She pulled one of the drawers open. She took a box of motors out of it. "Master's not gonna sell these. They're mine."
Asimov almost fell off the table.
"One blender, one desk fan, ooh and the big one's from a Kirby Vacuum!"
Igor just shook his head.
"I did not help with those."
"Should I add your... switch to my collection?"
Asimov was centimeters away from falling off, but a couple cords pushed him back.
Asimov turned around. Mr. St. Peters' own creation, a can opener/shaver/lamp hybrid, had pushed him back onto the table.
"You're the first appliance to stand up to her," Mish-Mash said, shaking one of her plugs.
"She's not easily placated," Igor added.
Debbie took the first strike. She wrapped her cord around Asimov's base.
"Maybe I ought to educate you," Debbie sneered. Asimov squirmed. Debbie coiled around him like a snake. Asimov wriggled his cord free. He jabbed the prongs into Debbie's right eye.
Debbie uncoiled around Asimov. "Dirty trick!" She geared up for another strike. "You have two prongs? I have three!" She swiped at Asimov, hitting him in the dented part of his base.
Asimov doubled over in pain.
Igor stared at the fight.
"Wait, aren't you going to do anything?" Mish-Mash asked.
"I came to this shop to illuminate, not to damage anything," Igor paused.
Asimov got up. Debbie had really done a number on him.
Debbie slipped back into her holster. "Let this be a lesson, Slim. I run the shop when Master's away. You're just an inmate."
Asimov returned to the shelf, shaking. "Just an inmate..."