It was a windy Tuesday evening in Chicago, and Kevin Crispin of Sad Times sat nervously at the Hysteria 51 studio. The vibe was light, the drinks were cold, but Kevin had a confession.
"You know, guys, when I was a kid, I had this... irrational fear," Kevin began, glancing nervously between Brent and David. "I was terrified of tornado sirens. Not the noise... but that I’d stick my head inside one and go deaf."
Brent burst out laughing. "Wait, wait—you thought you'd voluntarily stick your head inside a siren?"
David leaned in, amused but curious. "What, like some sort of... tornado siren daredevil?"
Kevin turned beet red. "Yeah, well, irrational fears don’t always make sense! I’d hear the siren and my brain would just go, 'What if today’s the day, Kevin? What if you just have to stick your head in there?'"
Suddenly, a familiar robotic voice cut through the conversation.
"Your childhood trauma is pathetic, Kevin." It was Conspiracy Bot, wheeling himself into the room with all the grace of a malfunctioning shopping cart. "But don't worry, I have a solution to your ridiculous phobia."
Brent and David exchanged glances. This couldn't be good.
Before Kevin could object, the door to the studio slammed open, and in stomped a hulking metallic figure. It had the body of a robot, but where a normal head should have been was something much, much worse: a spinning, wailing tornado siren.
The thing's voice echoed unnaturally through the room. "KEVINNNN," it wailed, its siren head spinning ominously. "I WANT YOU INSIDE ME!"
Kevin’s face went pale. "What... what the hell is that?!"
Conspiracy Bot, smug as ever, rolled closer to the new monstrosity. "Meet Sal the Siren Head, my latest creation. Far superior to that last abomination, K.Y.L.E." He shuddered at the memory of his failed sidekick. "Sal’s sole purpose is to help you confront your ridiculous tornado siren fear."
"Confront it?!" Kevin yelled, backing into a corner as Sal lurched closer, its siren head winding up like it was about to make the world's worst weather announcement. "This thing wants to eat me!"
"Not eat you," Sal droned menacingly, "I want you inside me, Kevin."
Brent was in stitches, slapping the table. "Conspiracy Bot, you’ve outdone yourself. This is pure nightmare fuel."
David, trying not to laugh, attempted to mediate. "Now hold on, Sal, let’s not be hasty. Kevin doesn't actually need to stick his head inside your... uh, siren part."
Sal loomed over Kevin, the wailing growing louder, closer. "BUT THAT IS WHAT I WAS MADE FOR!"
Kevin shrieked as the siren emitted an ear-piercing blast, rattling the walls of the studio. Brent, still laughing, yelled over the noise, "Don’t worry, Kev, it’s just trying to bond with you. Literally!"
Conspiracy Bot cackled maniacally. "Finally, a sidekick that gets results! You’re next, David!"
In a final act of desperation, Kevin grabbed the nearest object—a microphone stand—and swung it at Sal’s head. The blow connected with a deafening clang, and the siren screeched one last time before short-circuiting, sparks flying everywhere.
Sal staggered, sputtering, and then collapsed in a heap of smoldering metal. Kevin stood panting, victorious but traumatized.
Brent wiped a tear from his eye. "That... that was the greatest thing I've ever seen. Thanks, Conspiracy Bot."
Kevin, shaking slightly, slumped into his chair. "Next time I visit, can we talk about literally anything else?"
Conspiracy Bot beeped in amusement. "You're welcome, Kevin. Childhood traumas make for excellent entertainment."
David leaned back, still smiling. "Well, Kevin, you might’ve conquered your fear, but now you’ve got a whole new one: Conspiracy Bot’s sense of humor."
Sal's broken voicebox whined from the floor: "KEVINNN... INSIDE... MEEE..."
Kevin screamed again.
