The Ice Cream Machine: 6 Deliciously Different Stories with the Same Exact Name! - Hardcover

Rubin, Adam

 
9780593325797: The Ice Cream Machine: 6 Deliciously Different Stories with the Same Exact Name!

Inhaltsangabe

Don’t miss the #1 New York Times bestseller everyone is raving about! From the wild and wonderful imagination of the author of Dragons Love Tacos comes this hilarious, irresistible debut collection of six totally different stories with the same exact name.

In these six stories, set in six distinct worlds, you’ll meet a boy and his robot nanny traveling the globe in search of the world’s tastiest treat, a child mechanical prodigy who invents the freshest dessert ever, and an evil ice cream truck driver who strikes fear in the heart of every kid in town. 

You’ll be transported to a beachside boardwalk with an ice cream stand run by a penguin, a hilltop realm ruled by a king with a sweet tooth, and a giant alien space lab with a lone human subject who longs for a taste of home. 

Each story features black-and-white interior illustrations from a different artist, including Daniel Salmieri, Charles Santoso, Liniers, Emily Hughes, Nicole Miles, and Seaerra Miller, making this book unlike any you've ever seen. So grab a cup or a cone, and watch out for brain freeze! You'll definitely want to save room for this treat.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Adam Rubin is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of ten critically-acclaimed books, including Dragons Love Tacos, Dragons Love Tacos 2: The Sequel, High Five, Secret Pizza Party, Robo-Sauce, and El Chupacabras, which won the Texas Bluebonnet Award. Follow him on Twitter @rubingo.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

The Ice Cream Machine

(the one with the five--armed robot)


A glimmering blue streak rocketed through the air above Megalopolis, weaving between skyscrapers, ducking below streams of flying hoverpods, and blasting through holographic advertisements just for fun. Excitement spread throughout the city as ordinary citizens identified the flying object overhead.

“Hey, look! It’s Shiro and Kelly,” said a man selling digital tacos on a street corner. He waved up at the sky to greet the famous duo.

“Shiro and Kelly.” An old woman on a park bench chuckled as she adjusted her cybergoggles. “Off on another exciting adventure, I bet.”

“I wish I had a superbot,” said a kid staring out the window while feeding his dead goldfish.

Before long, Shiro Hanayama and his robot best friend/tutor/bodyguard, Kelly, reached their destination: the Hanayama Robotics Corporation, a two-­hundred-­story building covered in lush bioluminescent greenery, which towered over the sprawling cityscape that had once been known as Los Angeles.

A landing pad extended from the building, and Kelly touched down gently in the center. Shiro climbed out from inside the robot, yawned, and brushed the jet-­black hair from his forehead. He was pale and chubby but had his father’s handsome features and his mother’s fierce, intelligent eyes. He wore a flight suit with a helmet, bright-pink sneakers, and a backpack.

Shiro stretched his arms over his head. “It’s getting tight in there.”

“If you don’t like it,” replied Kelly, “stop growing.”

Kelly adjusted her configuration. In flight mode, she resembled a squid: five thin arms positioned at the bottom of her squat, egg-­shaped body, ionic thrusters blasting from the tip of each three-­pronged claw.

In casual mode, four of her limbs reconfigured into more traditional arm and leg positions, while the fifth moved around according to her mood: Sometimes it sat coiled atop her head like hair, sometimes it swished behind her back like a tail, and sometimes it moved to the front of her body to assist with tasks that required three hands.

Kelly’s limbs were dark and dull in color, but her body was iridescent, like the glimmering wings of a blue butterfly. She was built from indestructible bioengineered materials, covered in armored scales (like a pineapple), immune to microwave attacks, and completely bulletproof (unlike a pineapple).

A series of quantum processors gave her the capacity for independent thought. She was bubbly, funny, and kind, with an IQ of 250.

Kelly was famously considered to be the most advanced robot on Earth. Her groundbreaking technology was highly coveted by government spies and rival corporations, but despite their best efforts, the superbot’s mysterious power source remained top secret.

Shiro’s mom, Professor Hanayama, had designed Kelly to help care for and protect her son.

The professor was tall and thin, with big, penetrating eyes, a small mouth, and an asymmetrical haircut that had been dyed snow white. She always dressed in gray from head to toe, with a single fresh-­cut flower tucked into her lapel for a touch of color.

Professor Hanayama ran one of the largest corporations in the solar system, leading the innovation of bio-­quantum technology and working tirelessly to protect what little remained of Earth’s natural resources. It was a very demanding job, which meant she didn’t get to spend much time with Shiro. They had planned to have breakfast together before she left for work that morning, but Shiro had overslept. Again.

When Professor Hanayama noticed her son and his robot outside her office on the landing pad, she paused her presentation and glowered at them through the window. Shiro pleaded with his hands, miming an apology. His mother turned back to the national ambassadors gathered around the table in the conference room, excused herself, and stepped outside.

“Good morning, Professor,” Kelly said, bowing.

“Good morning, Kelly,” said Professor Hanayama as she gave Shiro an angry hug.

“Good morning, Mom,” Shiro mumbled with his face smooshed against her chest.

“It would have been a better morning if you had shown up for breakfast like we’d planned.”

“Ow, Mom, you’re squeezing too tight!” Professor Hanayama let go, and Shiro breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m really sorry. I was up late, and I couldn’t find my new sneakers this morning, and—­”

“Save it, Shiro,” said Professor Hanayama. “I’m giving you one last chance. But if you dare break your poor mother’s heart again tomorrow, I swear I will send you to the Mars colony to live with your father.”

“But the only reason I—­”

“I don’t have time for any more excuses.” Professor Hanayama adjusted the orchid in her lapel and walked back inside.

“You should have woken me up,” Shiro muttered under his breath.

“You made me pinky-­promise not to!” Kelly protested. “I believe your exact words were ‘I don’t need you to babysit me; I can take care of myself.’ ”

Shiro grumbled, “I can, you know.”

He pulled a kendama from his backpack.

Kendama is an old Japanese skill game involving a ball attached by a string to a handle shaped like a cross. The handle has three small cups for catching the ball and a single spike that perfectly fits the hole drilled into the ball. Kendama is a great way to demonstrate dexterity and coordination. Shiro liked the game because it was one of the few amusements left in the world that didn’t require any electricity. He whipped the red ball on the string around in his hands.

FWIP, FWIP!

He flipped the kendama around his back, under his leg, and into the air. He spun in a circle, caught the handle, and speared the ball on top.

FWIP, FWIP, FOOOOWIP, TOK!

It almost looked like an ice cream cone.

“Hey,” Kelly said, impressed, “that gives me an idea. Let’s call JoJo.”

Shiro smiled. “You always know how to cheer me up.”

The robot sent out a beacon, and they both sat down, legs dangling over the edge of the landing pad, to wait for the ice cream man to arrive.

 

Thousands of flying vehicles zipped through the smog that blanketed Megalopolis and obscured Shiro and Kelly’s view of the ground, two hundred stories below. In the distance, a single wobbling object appeared to disrupt the orderly streams of automated shipping drones and robo-­taxis that glided along in perfect harmony.

“Watch your butts, you dang auto-­pods,” yelled JoJo as he shook his fist. JoJo’s was one of the few manual vehicles still in operation in the city. Across the side of it was painted jojo’s old-­fashioned ice cream. The pod hovered up the side of the building and landed with a crunch behind Shiro and Kelly.

JoJo was a gruff man with a thick neck and a heavy mustache. He lifted his cap to stroke his bald head.

“All righty, then.” JoJo grabbed his ice cream scoop with a meaty hand. “What can I get my two favorite customers today?”

“I will take three triple cones,” Kelly said. “Chocolate/strawberry/peanut butter, hazelnut/vanilla/pistachio, and cherry/coconut/fudge chunk.” Kelly’s display visor flashed with excitement. “Please.”

“You got it, boss.” JoJo popped open the cooler.

Shiro...

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ISBN 10:  059332580X ISBN 13:  9780593325803
Verlag: Penguin Young Readers Group, 2023
Softcover