A Drone Named Jeffrey
Chapter Eleven
Tropical
"One day, we're going to the beach."
"What's a beach?"
"Like a desert only with water."
"Why do you wanna go to it if it's like the desert? The desert sucks."
"It's not Jeffrey."
"But you just said it was!"
"That's so you would have an easier time picturing it! It's not like the desert at all."
"Then don't make false comparisons. In fact, don't compare at all because you suck at it."
"Oh, bite me, Jeffrey."
"I can't; I don't have teeth."
"It's a saying. Not a literal thing."
"Why would humans have a saying like that? That's just terrible and totally asking to be bitten. No pun intended."
"That wasn't a pun."
"That's what she said."
Riley's straight face suddenly crumbled, and she leaned against the side of my leg in a fit of laughter. My engine hummed, but I remained stoically staring at the organic Seekers that circled above us. "That was fun. Let's do it again."
"'Kay. One day, we're going to the Artic."
"What's an Arctic?"