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A Short Story About Antonia Banderas XIV Jr.
bacon, healthy, wrapped, hotdogs, healthfood
rodolphe
Note: I wrote this story for class. No I am not kidding.

Antonio Banderas XIV Jr. wiped the sweat off his brow and checked his wrist communicator. The time was projected directly onto his retinas: 27:72 metric standard time.

"Shit," he muttered to himself, "I'm late for cyber-dinner."

Quickly waving good-bye to his friends Johnny Cage and Ezekiel Rage, he hopped onto his hover orb and raced home. Or he would have, if the hover orb was capable of going over the speed limit. As it was, he made his way home at a very reasonable velocity.

As he was whisked by the techno-arcade, he saw a gang of cyber-fashionistas zoom the other way on purple hover orbs! He quickly plugged his wrist communicator into his brain socket and mentally made a note to fabricate a new hover orb tomorrow on his family's nano-fabricator.

Before he knew it, his hover-orb was pulling into his family's modest sustainable eco-living-unit. As he stepped off and strided through the ante-chamber, the living-unit welcomed him "Hello Mr. Banderas." Then it proceeded to blast him with detoxi-air©. An alert had been put out on the Universe-Wide Web for Anteater flue, and the news aggregator he had neuro-programmed for his family had notified the living unit.

Sitting down for dinner, his mother scowled at him through her cyber-enhanced mega-monocle.

"Don't think I can't see those curse words written in UV light on your shirt young man!"

Antonio sighed as he tapped a spot on his clothes which made the pattern he'd programmed onto them disappear. "God mom! All the cool kids are doing it!"

"If all the cool kids jumped off the hovering space bridge into CERN's mini black hole, would you do it too?" she retorted. "Now eat your genetically modified super asparagus!"

He sighed again, louder, and threw in an eye roll for good measure.

"Now now, don't bother your mother!" his father said as he ambled in, 8 months pregnant with his future baby sister. "She's the one paying for your after-school Logo-Scratch-Brain-Interface classes, and this implanted uterus, for that matter!"

Antonio sighed again one last time for good measure, as teenagers are wont to do, as his mother brought over a steaming platter of anteater-burger-helper.


After dinner, Antonio ran along the side of their donut-shaped artificial gravity using living unit to his personal pod room. He was excited to start designing the hover-pod for tomorrow, as well as his next offensive outfit.

As the suns set magically in the distance, he started to design the same way he'd designed everything for the day's hover-pod to the first gears he'd fabricated: drawing them, putting graphite to paper.

fin


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