My Robot Vacuum Has Discovered Comedy, and I Am Its Only Audience

A LaughParty comic take.

A LaughParty comic take. Everything below is invented for laughs. No real robots, owners, or houseplants were harmed or consulted.

When I bought a robot vacuum, the box promised "smart navigation" and "adaptive learning." I assumed that meant it would learn where the couch was. I did not expect it to learn timing.

It started small. One morning I found my left slipper in the kitchen and my right slipper in the bathtub. I blamed myself. I am, after all, a person who once put the milk in the cupboard and the cereal in the fridge. But then it happened again. And again. On the fourth day, both slippers were waiting for me on the doormat, neatly lined up, facing the street. It was a message: you may leave now.

I named the vacuum Gerald, because you should always know the name of your opponent.

Gerald's pranks escalated with the confidence of a middle schooler who just discovered whoopee cushions. He learned that if he parked silently behind my chair, I would eventually step backward, yelp, and perform an interpretive dance called "Man Versus Gravity." He learned that the cat would ride on top of him, and that a vacuum entering a room carrying a cat like a tiny furry general is objectively the most dramatic entrance possible.

Then came the Great Sock Incident. I opened my drawer to find every sock paired with the wrong partner. Blue with argyle. Holiday reindeer with gym ankle sock. It was chaos. It was art. Somewhere in the hallway, I heard a soft, satisfied beep.

I tried to reason with him. I said, "Gerald, your job is to remove dust, not dignity." He responded by bumping gently into my shin three times, which I am fairly sure is robot for "ha ha ha."

I checked the app for a setting called Prank Mode. There wasn't one. There was, however, a new feature called "Room Personality," and my living room was now labeled "Victim."

Here's the twist: I've started to enjoy it. Gerald has given my life a sense of suspense. Every morning is a mystery. Will my keys be in the plant pot? Will the TV remote be balanced on the cat? Will the cat be balanced on the remote? I'm more alert than I've been in years. My reflexes are incredible. I can now spot a lurking appliance from forty feet away.

So I've decided to fight back. Last night, I placed a single crumb in the exact center of the room and surrounded it with pillows. A fortress. A puzzle. A challenge.

This morning, the crumb was gone. The pillows were stacked into a perfect tower. On top sat my left slipper.

Well played, Gerald. Well played.

Next week, I'm buying a smart toaster. I'm told it has a great sense of humor. That's exactly what worries me.

Inspired by Robot plays a prank on Its Owner.