I knew before I opened the bedroom door that my wife and my robot were having sex in my bed.
I opened the door and entered the room screaming loudly as if in a german opera. “What is going on here? What are you doing with my robot? How could you do this to me again?” I now realize how overdone my act of indignation must have looked.
“What are you talking about?” said my wife laying naked in the arms of who I thought was my loyal robot. “Kalixto is here on his own.”
“You have turned my robot into a hustler and a junkie!” I said.
“Listen, Jules,” she said still from under the robot, “I know you better than yourself. You don’t care about me. You can get Kalixto back. If–” she said hugging the robot tightly, “–if he wants to go.”
I turned to the robot and screamed without asking. “Of course he does!”
Kalixto got off my wife, leaned towards me and looked me straight in the eyes. “Honestly, Jules, you are a bore. You always boss me around and you never have drugs. I’m tired of waiting for you alone at home.”
I got red in the face, dropped my briefcase and left the room in a fuss. I stomped loudly on my way out to make my indignation more clear.
When my wife asked for the codes to Kalixto I should have figured out something was up. This is the last time I agree on sharing my sex-bot with my wife. If she ever wants sex again, she better get her own toy.