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‘You are shameless,’ I said to her as I gave a bit of a laugh while running the brush across her smooth black hair. ‘You know, the neighbors are probably thinking that I am brushing the wrong side of you and don’t realize it,’ I whispered to her. Apparently, she didn’t give a rat’s rear end and just laid there letting me brush away. ‘You know, it wouldn’t hurt if you did this for me once in awhile girl,’ I stated. Her only response was to push off of my forearm with her back paw wanting more. ‘Pathetic,’ I sighed to myself as all was right in Misty’s world tonight. The faint sound of heels clicking on the sidewalk grabbed my attention. Apparently, it grabbed Misty’s also and she rolled onto her side and held her head up high. As the sound came closer, she jumped up and sat at attention, perfectly still with the exception of the slight wag of her tail, which tapped me repeatedly on the side of my foot. I absolutely love high heels. They are strikingly beautiful and sexy and make my. (Whydidn't The Mistress use it before, some of you are asking? Because shewas working with 800 broken, unpowered robots. She couldn't justprogram them all to fix themselves -- they'd have just lied there on thefloor or scrabbled around trying to re-attach their own limbs.)I plugged the annex into the robot's chest.Alan put his hands on the lever.I hit the Upload button."I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered."Did it work?" Miki-chan asked after a couple seconds. I didn't know.I heard a faint hum, but that could have been the lights. The robotsdidn't move."...Let me try something," I breathed. I put my arms to my sides, stoodstraight, and yelled as loud as I could: "Atteeeeeen-shun!!"Boom.Everyone in Parkside heard it. Alan heard it."...What was that?" President Bellows mumbled. His soldiers saidnothing and didn't move a muscle, but they were all thinking the samething. The exhausted slaves weren't as discreet; they looked at eachother with apprehension in their eyes.Alan's hands were.
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As she carried my up the street toward her house I realized that I was never going to be able to get away and before I knew it I would be just another lost child being placed with a foster family, miles away. * * * Mrs. Johnson put me in her lounge while she made phone calls from the kitchen. She popped me down on the settee and switched on the TV then stood so that she could see me through the wide hatch while she was making her calls. There were cartoons on but I wasn't interested in them obviously. My mind was whirling round and round in wider and more erratic circles. What was going to happen to me? How could I possibly get out of it? There was no way. There was no way. Mrs. Johnson was talking to the police. "Her name is Tina Tomkins. She says she's six years old. Straight brown hair and a fringe. A pretty yellow short-sleeved dress. Yes. She's a cutie pie." I cringed, sinking further into the sofa. That was how people saw me now. Nothing but a little girl - a cutie pie. I.

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