temporary cover, will change later (or never BAHAHA)
PLZ DONT BULLY ME...
There is NO PHIGHTING BOOKS EVER. ANYWHERE. I NEED MY ONESHOTS OF SILLY ROBLOX GEAR INSPIRED CREATURES!!! However, if you want things, you gotta do it yourself.
I am trying no...
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Subspace angrily tapped on his computer. Then it quickly went to him banging on his desk out of pure anger. He had been working on new coding for Biograft all week, but each time he turned around, his computer would freeze up and all of his hard work would be gone when he had to restart his computer.
Finally snapping, Subspace took the monitor and chucked it to the other side of his room. He then grabbed the PC itself and chucked it away, making the bulky machine explode on impact with the wall.
Subspace slammed his finger down on his phone line and screamed to his secretary, "I need a new PC!! Stat!!" The secretary responded in an unamused and nasaly voice, "Right away, sir."
All he could do was wait. However, that was lame. Why wait around and be angry when you could wait, be angry, and eat something. That made Subspace begin to think.
Going to his landline, he yelled into it, "Get me Hyperlaser!! Now!!" He quickly got a response back from the same lady, "Sir, you sent Hyperlaser out an hour ago to shoot that little boy who called you, as I quote, 'queer and stupid'. Would you like me to send a Biograft instead?"
Subspace slammed his fists on his desk a couple times before yelling at her, "Fine!!" Not even a second later, a Biograft busted through Subspace's office. "CREATOR. I HAVE RECEIVED ORDERS YOU ARE IN NEED OF ASSISTANCE." Biograft relayed.
"You know very well I do!!" Subspace growled as he wrote down on a piece of paper with the only pen he had nearby; a teal glitter pen. Biograft was ready to receive orders, "DO YOU NEED SOMEONE KILLED, CREATOR? PERHAPS YOU NEED ME TO KNOCK OUT COMPETITION IN THE INVENTIONS INDUSTRY?"
Subspace stomped over and slapped the piece of paper in Biograft's hand, "None of that. Phight-fil-a, no pickles on my sandwiches! Make sure to get a large fry and I want lemonade!! Go!!" Subspace pushed Biograft out and slammed the door shut.
Biograft stood there, dumbfounded. They looked down at the paper and scanned it. Never has Subspace sent them on a "food run". They were always used for more destructive jobs.
Now they were trusted with the innocent task of getting their creator food. Well, if it is what he wants then Biograft will carry out that order to the best of their abilities. Turning on their GPS, Biograft located the nearest Phight-fil-a and made haste. Their creator was starving.
The line was huge, the place clearly very popular. Many workers ran around, but it still wasn't enough to make the huge line in both the inside and outside go fast enough for the robot's liking.
