In the Lives of Puppets

by T.J. Klune

Knowing the Old Ones couldn’t—or wouldn’t—leave the perimeters of the Scrap Yards, Nurse Ratched and Rambo waited for him at the edge, Rambo sitting on top of her, little arms waving frantically. Nurse Ratched’s screen had turned into a line of exclamation points. “See?” Vic told them as they left the Old One behind. “Nothing to it.” “Yes,” Nurse Ratched said. “Absolutely nothing to it. I would be impressed except I do not find idiocy impressive. If I did, I would flirt with you.” He’d learned of flirting from Dad’s films. People smiling and blushing when they saw each other, doing things they might not normally do, all in the name of love. He’d never had anyone to flirt with before. It sounded extraordinarily complicated. “I didn’t know you could do that.” “I can do many things,” Nurse Ratched said, the exclamation points disappearing, being replaced by a face with a funny smile, wide eyes surrounded by long eyelashes. “Hey, big boy. You should put your finger in my socket.” The screen went black. “That was flirting. There is a difference.” Vic grimaced as Rambo wheeled around him, arms waving. “They don’t do that in the films.” “At least not in the ones you have seen. Did it work? Are you aroused?” The tiny lens above her screen blinked to life, a blue light scanning him up and down. “You don’t appear to be aroused. Your penis shows no signs of elevated blood flow that supports recreational sexual engagement.” “I don’t have a penis,” Rambo said mournfully. Somewhere insi...