#sick bug.doc

[goodboybob-blog1]

*brings a cooling blanket for the sick bug. Also some cooled energon and a fluffy pillow*

Bob shifted his head so his cheek rose from the ground, replaced his chin so he looked the newcomer dead on. His tanks gave an ominous gurgle and he let loose a lackluster, short chur which evaporated into a groan of relief when the cooling blanket connected with his overtaxed frame. All four optics closed, a cheek reunited with the floor, and Bob sagged, trying his best to keep his sweets down.

Despite it all, he still would do it all over again.

[goodboybob-blog1]

*gently pets his head*

Bob gave a dejected sigh, like a worn and weary world traveler (tough tax season, eh buddy?) Without raising an inch, he scooted his body minutely to the side to push his helm into the hand, quietly asking for more as he fought an internal war. 

[goodboybob-blog1]

Bob whined low in his throat, sinking to the floor on his belly with droopy antennas. He was pouting, shifting his legs uncomfortably as he welcomed the cold from the ground like a compress against his heated frame.

All those sweets were starting to take their toll. He knew he wasn’t supposed to gorge for reasons like this, but they were just so tasty!

Now he lived in a land of regret.