Robbie Forgotten

12

Robbie did his best to be good. He danced with Stephanie and polished Stingy's car. He ate sportscandy with Ziggy, helped clean Pixel's room, and practiced soccer with Trixie. Robbie performed endless chores alongside Mayor Meanswell to clean up the town and made himself a fixture in the community. The kids could always count on Robbie to play if they asked him, and he was at Bessie's beck and call, and he even had his own vegetable box in the community garden now where he grew his carrots.

None of the townspeople knew that Robbie had found his old lair. The tree house had become his halfway house at the end of every evening and he was getting better at going up and down the ladder. It kept him close to everyone else and always ready to join in a game or do a favor.

But still, whenever he had the opportunity, when nobody was looking for him or expecting him to do anything, Robbie started slipping away to go for solitary walks— walks that invariably led him to the billboard on the edge of town, to the secret inside the silo. Something kept pulling him down that chute and back into that hidden place. A place where he could be alone, and quiet, and still. The more times Robbie went back down there, the more he found in the place that redeemed its first impression.

It turned out there was a lot down there to like. The recliner, for starters, was the most inviting feature of the place. It was so comfortable that Robbie could fall asleep in it despite the unsavory surroundings. He just couldn't nap for too long otherwise people would start to wonder where he'd gotten off to. Still he couldn't resist a little snooze whenever he sat down for long enough. The cushions seemed almost to be molded to his shape. He supposed that they were.

There were all those mannequins inside the tubes too, each one wearing a costume or outfit that begged to tell a story if only they could speak. Robbie's experimenting on the control center revealed just how many costumes there were in the arsenal as the tubes could rotate out one strange fashion after another. Pirate garb, a suit of armor, astronaut uniform, a sharp suit fit for a politician, dresses and animals and aliens, blue collar corduroys and rock star robes, all manner of masks and hats and wigs shuffled through the displays. All of it was perfectly tailored to Robbie's measurements too, no doubt.

The electric keyboard was still functional and Robbie found he could play a few simple tunes. There was a TV set fixed onto some sort of mechanical dolly that descended from the ceiling and played nothing but the shopping channel, which for some reason Robbie liked. The seemingly endless heaps of junk and bits of machines were less overwhelming and more intriguing with each successive visit. He found a purple softball that sputtered out garbled noises, boots that could walk by themselves, robotic bits and pieces, some strange combination of an umbrella and a fishing rod, and catapults and cannons that all turned the chamber into one big workshop.

Among all the homemade contraptions was perhaps the best invention of them all. Robbie hadn't been entirely sure what it was on first look, some kind of oversized microwave oven with far more dials and buttons than seemed necessary. Daring to twist a knob here and punch a key there made the machine grind and whistle and chug for a short time before it gave off a promising ding and steam hissed out around the hinges of the door on its face. Riding on the back of that steam there was an odor that tickled Robbie's nose and pricked his mouth into watering...

Somehow, defying all logic, the machine made wholly formed sweet and chewy, frosted gooey slices of cake. With no kids down here to remind Robbie that he didn't eat candy the delectable morsel was devoured in seconds.

Robbie made another slice. And another. After the fourth slice he lay sprawled back and snoring on the recliner with the plate balanced on his belly and crumbs in the corners of his mouth, the TV set cycling between infomercials and static.