hen one day he just couldn’t put his arm back on. For years he’d been backflipping and somersaulting from one place to the next. It was pretty much the only way you could get around when your entire neighbourhood was constructed from lethal machinery.
Every so often, he’d get snagged in a giant gear or caught in a saw blade. Sure, that’d tear a limb clean off, but it was better than the pools of magma. You couldn’t put it back on once it’d melted. All in all, Planet Danger wasn’t really the greatest place to live.
He used to be able to snap it back on. Just like that, good as new. It was a trick he’d employ to impress his friends. But in the end they all got vaporized in the laser field. They didn’t play safe like he told them to. Lately, within the last eon or so, his arm just started falling off the minute he snapped it into place.
He had never failed at anything before. Now he was regularly failing at putting his arm back on. It disturbed him for many cycles. Eventually, he buried the damned thing under a pile of razor wire and broken glass. He kept waiting for further failures. It seemed inevitable now.
Remember when you were a minipop, and you saw that film, you know, the one you loved that never had a sequel? Well, let's say it did. And it was just like you imagined it, only a little bit worse.