Machine Man (serial)

But the morning was better. When Lola padded off to the shower, clad in a borrowed T-shirt that said DINO-ROAR!, I even tried the war veteran legs by myself. My plan was to impress Lola. I got myself strapped in and staggered into the corridor, taking huge, toddler-like steps and bouncing off the walls. There were no dogs around. I should have noticed that.

“He has.” That was Lola. She had detoured to the living room, for some reason. “You’ll see.”

“You shouldn’t have bought the welder. You’re enabling him.” Angelica, of course. “I swear to God, Lola. This ends with you in tiny pieces.”

“Give him a chance. You’ll see. He’s trying.”

“Trying to get to the garage, I bet.”

“He’s trying to walk on those… those stupid prosthetics. He’s changing.”

“Tss,” Angelica said, or something similar. “Believe that when I see it.”

At this point I smiled, because I had formed a smug little plan. I would totter out there on my pole legs. Angelica would be surprised. Lola would glance at her like: See? And I would be all: What?

I almost pulled it off, too. I got one pole in front of the other. As I reached the end of the corridor, I attained balance: I entered the living room walking, actually walking, albeit somewhat zombie-like, my arms out in front. Lola and Angelica turned toward me, their faces matching portraits of surprise. It was perfect. Then Dog struck.

127.