Edith tentatively shook his metallic claw, then led her guests into the living room. After some polite chit-chat, she asked her daughter if she would give her a hand in the kitchen. Martha could tell something was up. She’d been worried her parents might judge him on his looks, or the way he spoke, or because O.S.C.A.R 9 was an H-class titanium battle-bot. Edith said she wasn’t being robotist, she just didn’t want to see her daughter getting hurt. Martha assured her the slaughter droid wouldn’t hurt a fly. Not unless it was a giant mecha-fly armed with photon blasters and spinning tail spikes. A look of panic spread across their faces. They had to get O.S.C.A.R 9 as far away as possible, but the buzzing of approaching insectoid wings told them it was too late. Edith clung to the vague hope that her husband might somehow bond with their daughter’s new partner, but then she heard his attack sirens booming. O.S.C.A.R 9 warned Mr Coulson to disengage his weapons systems or prepare to be obliterated. When the flyborg opened fire, he responded with both laser canons. Mother and daughter stood in the back garden while proton screams filled the air. As the house was reduced to rubble, Martha vowed that next time she brought a killer robot home she’d make sure her father hadn’t been drinking. --- Allan Miller is a writer of humorous flash fiction. His work has been published in such places as Gutter, Popshot Quarterly, Ellipsis Zine, Full House Literary, Firewords, Porridge, Mono, ForgeZine, The Martello, Neither Fish Nor Foul and Trash Cat Lit, and featured on the shortlist for the Welkin Mini 2025.