Little Susan B. stood staring at the thing before her in disbelief.
"Fat," she said. "I'm fat?"
"I'm a machine. Machines don't lie."
"But I'm ten."
"Ten and fat."
"But how can you tell? There's gotta be some mistake."
"Okay, kid, listen up. I've got your goddamn height and BMI right here. Right here inside me.
And according to my records, you suck at boxing, you suck at running, your physical age is that of a 48-year-old male and you suck at Brawl."
"Hey, you're being mean!"
"I'm not mean. I'm a machine. Can't take playing with me? If you don't like it then take yourself somewhere else and maybe go and play with the other babies outside in the sandbox. In the sun. With other actual humans. Like a sissy. Go ahead. You're obviously not man enough to play with this."
The Nintendo Wii puffed out his chest as little Susan B. ran away crying to the sandbox.
A short distance away, PS3 and 360 frowned disapprovingly. PS3 sighed.
"Man, I don't know what