Post by vanessajoyce on Sept 9, 2008 14:21:43 GMT -5
Sorry I'm late with this this week . . . I've been really sick with the flu.
Again, if you like these selections, pick up the Junior Novelization by Irene Trimble.
Again, if you like these selections, pick up the Junior Novelization by Irene Trimble.
WALL-E picked up his pace as he headed toward his truck. He scurried up and pulled a lever on the truck's side. Slowly the back began to come down, and WALL-E happily sped up the ramp and into the trailer. Home!
The wind whipped the truck as WALL-E peeled his new rubber treads from his wheels. He would put them on again in the morning before returning to work. But now it was time to relax. He removed a battered BnL cooler from his back. It was his collection box, and he was ready to begin the nightly ritual of going through the treasures he had found in the trash during the day.
But first, WALL-E went to an old television set and turned on his favorite video: Hello, Dolly! He always played it when he arrived home. After watching the video for a minute, he turned back to press a button that activated the rotating racks of shelves where he neatly stored his treasures. The day had yielded some very special finds: a few old toys and utensils (all of which made WALL-E curious, since he didn't know what they were) and a lighter.
As he listened to the background music from the video, WALL-E perked up. He moved among his many treasures, stopping often in front of the fuzzy images scrolling across his television screen. The actors were singing and dancing to the song WALL-E had been humming all day. He paused, waiting for the next part. When it came, he hit the Record button on his chest and moved closer. WALL-E could see that the actors were not dancing now. They were walking together and looking into each other's eyes. Then they took each other's hands.
WALL-E tilted his head, his large eyes gazing tenderly at the screen. He interlocked his own two robotic hands. And for a moment the lonely robot wondered what it would be like to hold someone else's hand.
Later that night, when the storm had ended, WALL-E rolled outside and turned over his collection box to clean it out. He pressed the Play button on his chest and listened to the song again. Although the little robot wasn't programmed to understand romance, it was romance that pulsed through his circuits. It was the same strange impulse that made WALL-E gaze up at the few stars visible through the polluted haze and wish for someone to share his world.
Suddenly, WALL-E's internal systems gave him a warning sign. The wind was picking up again. WALL-E checked the horizon. A massive sand-storm was approaching across the dried-up bay.
WALL-E swiftly headed back into the truck. He was familiar with the dangers of being caught in a sandstorm -- air so clogged with dirt and debris that he wouldn't be able to see; whipping winds that would fill every crevice in his robotic joints with sand; and, of course, the chance of being buried. This time he was lucky; he was close to the safety of his truck.
A blinding wave of sand roared closer as WALL-E entered the truck and began to raise the door. He stopped for a moment, remembering, and then turned and made a robotic noise -- like a whistle -- to call for his cockroach. The door shut just as the storm hit, with both master and pet safe inside their little home.
WALL-E unwrapped a BnL sponge cake and set it on a shelf. Still moist from the preservatives that had kept it intact for centuries, the little cake made a comfy cockroach bed.
WALL-E collapsed into a box shape and backed into an empty shelf. Rocking the shelf back and forth like a cradle, he closed his eyes and shut down for the night. Outside, the full force of the storm raged across the terrain.
The wind whipped the truck as WALL-E peeled his new rubber treads from his wheels. He would put them on again in the morning before returning to work. But now it was time to relax. He removed a battered BnL cooler from his back. It was his collection box, and he was ready to begin the nightly ritual of going through the treasures he had found in the trash during the day.
But first, WALL-E went to an old television set and turned on his favorite video: Hello, Dolly! He always played it when he arrived home. After watching the video for a minute, he turned back to press a button that activated the rotating racks of shelves where he neatly stored his treasures. The day had yielded some very special finds: a few old toys and utensils (all of which made WALL-E curious, since he didn't know what they were) and a lighter.
As he listened to the background music from the video, WALL-E perked up. He moved among his many treasures, stopping often in front of the fuzzy images scrolling across his television screen. The actors were singing and dancing to the song WALL-E had been humming all day. He paused, waiting for the next part. When it came, he hit the Record button on his chest and moved closer. WALL-E could see that the actors were not dancing now. They were walking together and looking into each other's eyes. Then they took each other's hands.
WALL-E tilted his head, his large eyes gazing tenderly at the screen. He interlocked his own two robotic hands. And for a moment the lonely robot wondered what it would be like to hold someone else's hand.
Later that night, when the storm had ended, WALL-E rolled outside and turned over his collection box to clean it out. He pressed the Play button on his chest and listened to the song again. Although the little robot wasn't programmed to understand romance, it was romance that pulsed through his circuits. It was the same strange impulse that made WALL-E gaze up at the few stars visible through the polluted haze and wish for someone to share his world.
Suddenly, WALL-E's internal systems gave him a warning sign. The wind was picking up again. WALL-E checked the horizon. A massive sand-storm was approaching across the dried-up bay.
WALL-E swiftly headed back into the truck. He was familiar with the dangers of being caught in a sandstorm -- air so clogged with dirt and debris that he wouldn't be able to see; whipping winds that would fill every crevice in his robotic joints with sand; and, of course, the chance of being buried. This time he was lucky; he was close to the safety of his truck.
A blinding wave of sand roared closer as WALL-E entered the truck and began to raise the door. He stopped for a moment, remembering, and then turned and made a robotic noise -- like a whistle -- to call for his cockroach. The door shut just as the storm hit, with both master and pet safe inside their little home.
WALL-E unwrapped a BnL sponge cake and set it on a shelf. Still moist from the preservatives that had kept it intact for centuries, the little cake made a comfy cockroach bed.
WALL-E collapsed into a box shape and backed into an empty shelf. Rocking the shelf back and forth like a cradle, he closed his eyes and shut down for the night. Outside, the full force of the storm raged across the terrain.
