My Inability to Write

5AM...9AM...Noon...5PM...9PM...Midnight...David IIV carefully lowered his middle finger and soldered the remaining resistor into place precisely and perfectly, finally finishing his wazzastic superschrumer, which was death to all pollen creating objects. A tendril of smoke rose from the finger as his metallic eyes blinked and rattled in satisfaction. David IIV was supremely happy for a Grade AVA robot. He clunked his hand on the lever and his circuits immediately went into overdrive. Outside of his metal grate, he saw trees folding into themselves and flowers growing back into the ground. David IIV ran through the wall in his panic to stop the chaos that he had unleashed.

Suddenly, a siren was nearly on top of him and lasers flooded the area. A loudspeaker announced, "David IIV. You are wanted for the destruction of plant life. Turn yourself off immediately." David IIV froze in mid-clunk and took a nanosecond to ponder his 12,347 possible options, of which 10,346 led to the same scenario with a 5% margin of error, 364 of which were plain awful, and the rest were somewhat in between. Something amazing happened just then. Instead of taking the rational option to turn himself off, David IIV shivered and teleported himself into the middle of a garbage heap on a large and gaseous purple planet.