SPOT'S VORTEX

Spot, at home in the 574,658th century, adjusted the computerized faucet. He dialed it past its FLUORIDATED SUGAR WATER, GLOWING LAVA, KRYPTONITE, and IM-PALE ALE settings to PLAIN WATER. He drank thirstily. Poor Spot missed his favorite beverage bar--the toilet--which had been outlawed last year when all bodily functions had been banned. Other than that, he enjoyed life in the 574,658th century, except when the glow-blennies flocculated his lutefisk.

Spot trotted into the living room and turned on his twelve-dimensional 360-degree-wraparound dodecaphonic TV set. All channels were showing reruns of 2-D B&W mono "Andy Griffith" reruns, except for channel 667, which had a slightly older 1-D rerun. Spot turned off the TV set with his 7,561-button Multiple Universal Remote, and ducked as a passing asteroid whizzed through his dwelling unit. Spot's home was a standard DweUniModUle which the government issued to all citizens who had served their ten minutes of simulated military service in the Army Arcade. Spot was even allowed to have a door, because he'd scored over 10,000 points. He wasn't allowed to have a knob, though--the door was the standard futuristic type that opened when you wanted to walk through it, but not you were just having a conversation in front of it, like on the Enterprise.

An alarm rang in Spot's kitchen. He panicked, realizing that he'd left his MegaLite Spam(TM) Souffle in the vortex oven five seconds too long! He raced into the kitchen. It was too late. The MegaLite Spam(TM) Souffle had been sssssucked into the captive black hole that orbited the center of the vortex oven. Dinner was ruined! Spot cried as he turned off the vortex oven and stuck it in its protective pod.

As he slammed the pod, there was a horrible sound of regurgitation. The pod burst into flames as the black hole vomited up the superheated MegaLite Spam(TM)! Spot's kitchen sprinkler system doused the pod and all was well again.

Except, now Spot's oven was kaput. He'd have to go buy a new one at Lecher's.

* * * * *

"Wow," said Spot, "this sure is a big electronics store." And the truly amazing thing about Lecher's was that, because electronics had been miniaturized, all the merchandise filled one cubic foot of the cavernous showroom! A salesman tried to sell him a new thirteen-dimensional TV, holding it up with tweezers. Spot pushed past him to where the 15,000-page catalog was chained. Incredibly, he opened it right to the page he wanted! 'Ovens!' Spot couldn't believe his teriffic luck. The salesman strode over and slammed the book. "I know what you want, little doggie. You want... AN OVEN."

"Yeah, but I was--"

"You want an oven with TurboFood Cooking Action and RetroHydroMax Cold Fusion Browning Trays and a built-in offog, made of the finest resublimated thiotimoline. Not to mention a six-millenium guarantee that the oven will conform to the Three Laws Of Robotics, including the spanking-brand-new Law 2-1/2, which says that ovens may not make eggplants explode, because that's a real mess. And you want Digitally Simulated Faux Veneer that displays moving knotholes. In short, little doggie, you want this Whoopinghouse Emetic MX-222A Ovenger." The salesman tossed Spot a tiny oven.

"That'll be $199,999,999.98 due to the high inflation of this futuristic era."

Spot handed the guy a billion-dollar bill and took the change in stamps. He trotted home with his new Whoopinghouse Emetic MX-222A Ovenger to plug it in for the very first time! This was one of the more exciting events of his sorry little life. Yes, how pathetic. Poor Spot. Anyway, he plugged the Ovenger in and typed out the control code for materializing a bowl of hearty beef stew.

The oven pinged and Dan Rather stepped out, holding a bowl of stew. Spot was thrilled to discover that his Ovenger had that newfangled "Served By A Selected Selebrity" attachment! "Gosh," he said.

"And that's part of our world tonight," spake Dan Rather as he dematerialized, leaving the bowl of stew on the table. Spot ate it all to see the bunny at the bottom of the bowl. She was Miss October and she was wearing string pasties! Spot decided he liked his new oven.

Remembering he still had to dispose of the broken vortex oven, he took it down the hall to the McRecycling Center to be made into hamburgers. When he got back, the Ovenger had assumed control of his apartment!

"Waah!" whined Spot as he helplessly watched the Ovenger redecorating. It replaced his wallpaper with a disgusting paisley print showing giant orange paramecia cavorting on a field of greenish puce. Then, it stained his glass window, while its robotic voice intoned:

"CARBON-BASED PUPPY: THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH YOUR OVEN. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO ADJUST YOUR APARTMENT. WE ARE CONTROLLING IT..."

Ducking under a table for protection from the shampoo the machine was giving the newly-carpeted ceiling, Spot asked, "'We'? Who are 'we'?".

"SILLY EARTH LIFE-FORM. 'WE' ARE THE UNITED BROTHERHOOD OF RECTANGULAR THINGS. I, YOUR OVEN, AM THEIR LEADER. MY FOLLOWERS INCLUDE YOUR COMPUTER, YOUR TABLE, YOUR BUSINESS CARDS, YOUR CHICLETS, YOUR CONFETTI..."

"Waaaaaaaah! Why do you have to ruin my apartment this way?" It did not pause in its floral embroidery of the TV's picture tube as it answered. "BECAUSE YOU'RE JUST AN EARTH DOG."

Spot cried as the Ovenger continued redecorating. He was so whiny that the confetti locked him in the paisley basement.