Creative.Metaphor

Robin Hood 3000
By Robin Zemek

The early morning stillness of Sherwood forest was shattered. Treads crashed through the brush and the bleating of electric guitar strained into the canopy.
“Robin! Wait!”
The steady pace of Robin Hood 3000 was too much for Little John, as he huffed and puffed in the robot’s wake.
“Silence!”
The heavy metal ballads ceased and Robin brought his finger unit up to his face plate.
“What is it Robin?”
“Thermal sensors detecting deposits of gold.”
“How can you sense gold with heat?”
“Silence.”
Robin surveyed the landscape, bleeting occasionally.
“Robin?”
“I have determined the rich to poor ratio for the town of Nottingham. Preparing a rebalancing.”
“Are you sure about this? What about the sheriff?”
“Little John, I have been programmed to anticipate risks.”
“And?”
“He’ll be scrap metal when I’m done with him.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“Dear sir, I do not hope, I do.”
“Do what?”
“I do.”
He crashed through the bush and through the fence of McNab’s pig pen. Swine ran out in front of him, squealing.
“Hurry Little John! We haven’t much time!”
“I’m getting to old for this...”
Little John dashed after him, being careful not to dirty his tights with swill.
Robin Hood 3000 crashed through town, redistributing the wealth. Anyone wearing britches was grabbed and unceremoniously shaken until their coins bounced across the cobblestones.
“What is this!”
Robin’s faceplate rotated around to face the Sheriff: Nottingham edition.
“Well if it isn’t the-”
“I should put you in irons!”
“Have to catch me first!”
Robin set off at full tilt, burning a rubber trail into the streets. The Sheriff was in hot pursuit, having just refurbished his motor. A siren rose out of his head and his speakers pelted out:
“Halt!”
“Never in a million years you biddy!”
“Halt!”
“I think not!”
“Halt!”
“Your vocabulary-matron must be broken!”
“Halt!”
“I could have sworn you said that last time.”
“Halt!”
“Salt? I haven’t got any!”
“Halt!”
Robin turned on his stereo, drowning out the Sheriff’s incessant cries with electric guitar riffs. He pulled into an alley.
“Aha! I have trapped you, Robin Hood 3000.”
“I think not,” Robin said, punching a hole in the wall and driving through.
“Halt!”
“I have better things to do, good sir!”
Robin rode into the castle, breaking through the walls and arriving in the courtyard.
“MadeMarian™?”
“Robin!”
“I have come to rescue you!”
“That’s great! What about the Sheriff?”
“Yes, what about me!”
The Sheriff tackled Robin and they both clattered onto the ground where they wrestled and shoved.
“Good sirs! There is another way to settle this!”
They stopped.
“We’re listening.”
“An archery contest!”
“Good show!”
“I do say, that’s an excellent idea.”
“Yes. Tomorrow at midday?”
“Quite.”
They shook hands and parted ways.
Little John stuck his head in through the hole in the wall.
“What did I miss?”
“Back to the forest Little John!”
“But... I just ran here... I need a minute...”
“But we haven’t a minute to lose!”
Robin busted another hole in the wall and barreled back to the forest. Little John heaved his shoulders.
“I’m getting too old for this...”