TLPHOLG: The Un-Space-Vet

So this lil' Boxey shite is hemmin' anna hawin' anna pissin' anna moanin' bought how his damn robotically 'clined Daggnabbit's been runnin' a high temp'ture the last coupla weeks and actin' all mopish and shit. Since I ain'ts got no trainin' in droid health I recommended he add a coupla quarts of oil and top off its other fluids...to which the mop-topped (top-mopped?) stripling goes even more bat-shit...screamin' through mucous-laden tears that this ol' Daggnabbit of his ain't gots no damn dipstick or nothin'...tho' I could swear I once espied the mechanical mutt lickin' his clean one afternoon. But what the fuck do I know? Like I said...I ain'ts no doctor or Scottish engineer or whatever. So, in light of his continued fussin' 'bout this not-animal, I happened to recall a time when Little Joe had to tend to a goat what had taken ill down on the ponderosa. Not a thing any of us coulda done for the goat so we had tah put it down, sad to say. So I shot Boxey through his mess-tressed dome and converted the 'sick' Daggnabbit inta a foot massager...though some be rumor-mongerin' that it looks like I've got my tootsies up a robot-dog's bung... T