Birds of a Feather
by: Karen Walker (KAnnMurray@aol.com)

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Joel Robinson had found himself in some pretty strange places in his lifetime, but none so strange as a world where weather changed more frequently than the moodswings of a pregnant woman. Oddly enough, he wasn't surprised by his surroundings. He had been there before, with Mike, but had never had a chance to venture around on his own. Sure, he loved having Mike's company, but when his gestalt was sleeping peacefully, the inventor didn't want to wake him.

Walking from under a snow covered tree, he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his pair of worn Levi's, and tried to fend off the cold for the moment that it would last. In his mind, he counted the steps from once season to the next, but even with a short stride the numbers never reached the twenties. Shaking his head, and sending his sandy blond hair into a flurry, he looked around for something interesting to do.

Mike and himself had ended up in the Subreality Cafe, but Joel wasn't accustomed to seeing three different versions of people he knew, so going back there was out of the question. Afterall, if there were three Remys, then there's bound to be three Sabretooths, and that idea didn't sit with Joel well at all. Even more disturbing was the fact that if there was one Joel Robinson there, soon would probably follow.

Kicking a stone and watching it roll into a thick patch of green grass, he smirked. The weather seemed to change like people. One moment a storm's shaking a tree and trying to throw off it's friends, the next everyone's leaning into the sunlight blissfully. Yes, life was odd like that sometimes.

Looking up once again, he noted a building, shifting shape ever so slightly in it's own right. Perhaps odd wasn't the word to describe the little nook in space and time. Shrugging to himself, he decided that whatever was happening inside of the little building was probably more exciting than the things happening outside. Still, the feeling that he had been almost drawn to the only standing building around weighed heavily on his mind. Something must have been inside that he was supposed to see.

Joel walked up each step, moving through the doorway just before the rain caught him, and looked around. The sign had said something about a club, but everything before it was gibberish to the inventor. Perhaps the weather wasn't the only thing messed up... maybe he'd picked up dyslexia on the way.

The inside of the club was a bar setting, and it took only a moment for Robinson to recognize the robot tending bar. Tom Servo was mixing drinks for some imaginary patrons, whistling a tune through his tiny silver beak. "Hey, look, it's Joel Robinson, ladies and gentlebots!" He exclaimed with his nearly patented announcer voice, and waiting for the dimensionally disabled version of his creator to step to the bar.

"Hey, Tom." Joel smiled, glancing around at his surroundings for a moment before perching himself on a seat.

"Hiya, stool pigeon," the red 'bot replied. "What can I getcha? The usual?"

"If you mean ginger ale on the rocks, sure." Robinson nodded, finding this Tom Servo to be quite similar to the one that was probably sleeping back at home. Once again he'd proven one of his own theories right, but it still wasn't a bad thing to have two Servos.

"Comin' right up!" He chimed, moving around the back of the bar with great speed. A moment later, he slid the drink down the bar towards Joel, hovering where he stopped fixing the drink.

Joel picked up the glass with liquid ease and sipped at it, making a face as if he'd just taken a shot of good whiskey. "Just how I like 'em," he grinned, looking at Tom. "So, when did you start working here?"

"Not too long ago. But, hey, I'm the bartender here, I'm supposed to be listening to your problems. So, tell me, what's on your mind?"

A slight chuckle escaped from the inventor, and he looked around once again. "I guess nothing, really. Just wanted to get out and think... maybe get some good, fresh air. Plus, Mike was sleeping and I didn't want to disturb him."

"Oh, so you know Mike too? I mean, you're the Joel that lives with the Mike that came here the other day."

Joel blinked, looking at the red robot. It sounded awfully confusing to him at that moment, but he ran it through his head a couple of times. "Yea... oh! Yea, that's me... I think. He was here?"

The 'bot laughed a little bit, "Yep, had Guinness, if I remember right. You know, I never forget a face, but there's one I'd like to. Baba boom! Naw, he's great. Got that kind, very Mike thing going on with him."

"Yea, that's the man." Joel snickered, sipping at the ginger ale and enjoying the quiet moment. Then, a hand was placed on his shoulder... well, it really didn't seem like a hand, but Joel figured it to be. It was kind of small, and sharp to be specific, and another joined it. Halfway afraid to turn around, he swallowed loudly at the fluttering near his ear, and when a loud "Talk to me, baby!" rang out in his ear, he jump from his seat, sending a mass of colorful feathers flying away from him. "Geez!! What the heck?!"

"Hey, you met Mike's bird. He eats all of our peanuts and like to drink pina coladas."

"Mike doesn't have a bird!" Robinson exclaimed, a hand over his heart and his breathing heaving. Keeping his eyes on the bird, he watched it fly around the room once, and land on the bar.

"Hello!" The parrot sang out, followed by a quick, "Talk to me, baby!"

"Actually, he found it outside, I think. Brought it inside, and we just kind of adopted it. Great pet... good for scaring inventors."

Joel laughed humorously, but after returning to his seat, he couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. Picking his drink back up, he downed the rest of the ginger ale and looked at the parrot. "You scared me," he smirked, pushing the glass away.

The rainbow parrot looked at him, it's toes tapping and it's head turning in the fluid way that birds managed, then it stepped forward a good two paces. "Bite me, I'm huge!" It squawked, and turned it's tail feathers towards Joel.

"I suppose you taught him that," the inventor snickered, looking at Tom.

"You bet! And there's more to come of course. Haikeeba's next." The red robot hovered past Joel and the glass was gone from sight.

"Well, just don't be teaching them anything that a 5 year old shouldn't hear, okay?"

"You got it," Servo obliged. "Want another drink?"

Joel shook his head, standing. "Naw, I think I'm gonna get out of here before another Joel comes walking through those doors. Couldn't stand the thought of looking myself in the face... it'd just be too weird."

Tom shook his head, watching the creator, "Well, just be careful out there. I heard we're supposed to get hurricane strength winds within the next 8 minutes," he offered.

"How--? No, I'm not going to ask... See you later, Tom." Moving over to the door, Joel pushed it open and peeked out to make sure there were no flying palm trees or cars, then escaped into the sunlight, leading the club behind.

"There goes a sick, sick person... I'll definitely keep in mind to stay away from his Writer," Servo shook his head a second time and looked over at the bird. "Can't even call him a muse, can we? Ah well, he'll find his place somewhere."

"Talk to me--Movie sign!!" The parrot squealed, delighting in the sight of Tom Servo going crazy behind the bar. "Bite me, bite me!"

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Disclaimers: Subreality, of course, is Kielle's. The TTPCTS Club was concepted and created by Bodger. Mike, Joel, and Tom belong to BBI. The parrot is a long story, but a cute one.