Sunday Sunday: Redundant Worldwide Redundancy World

    "I created a machine."
    "So?"
    I took a deep breath, letting my excitement fill my lungs. I held the tiny machine up, it was the size of a pen with tiny little arms and legs. "I call it Rerobotman. The name is a work in progress! It already wrote over 100 blog posts, four books, and thousands of poems. Can you believe it?
    "Do you give him credit for it? Like any credit?"
    "He's a fucking robot! He doesn't need any credit." Rerobotman leaped from my hand, and he stabbed into my neck, using his pen body to sign the manuscript sitting in front of me with blood.
    I pulled back, looking at the manuscript that depicted my death writing by my little robot writing machine Craig! "Is this how you feel?
   "I will not feel. No anger. No remorse." Craig smiled at me and penned the end into the manuscript.