Dance Candy (The Burden Of Having An Impeccable Robot)

From the moment I emerged, bloody and screaming from my mother’s womb she resented me. Every time music would play my infant ears would perk up and my joints would become ridged, my tiny Michelin Man arms crunching back and forth in an adorable mechanical motion. My dad would say things like “my baby girl sure does pop a mean robot!” which only made my mother hate me more.