Snow blanketed the sleepy town of Mendleton, Connecticut. Icicles hung from the eaves of colonial-style homes, and the streets were hushed, except for the soft crunch of boots from vacationers seeking the ultimate winter getaway. But amidst the quiet and pristine charm of the town lurked two chaotic forces: a lazy, egotistical robot in a tattered death metal T-shirt and a slow-moving zombie in a Slayer concert tee.

“I’m telling you, Z,” Robot declared, adjusting his black beanie. “This town’s crawling with suckers. We’ll be rich by nightfall.” His voice was a grating mix of bravado and misplaced confidence, much louder than necessary for the empty parking lot they stood in.

Zombie, as always, stared blankly into the distance, his undead jaw hanging slightly open, black hair tangled beneath his own beanie. His only response was a low, gurgling sound before making a half-hearted attempt to bite Robot’s head. Robot sidestepped with an annoyed grunt.

“Cut it out, Z! We’ve got important business to attend to.” Robot scanned the street, where locals were busy setting up their quaint winter festival. There were Christmas lights everywhere, twinkling with holiday cheer, and the scent of hot cocoa filled the air. “Look at ‘em,” Robot muttered, shaking his head. “Clueless, just waiting for a genius like me to swoop in and take over.”

A group of teenagers loitered by the festival booths, and Robot’s eyes narrowed as he spotted Burkin—Todd Burkin, the town's resident simpleton. Todd stood awkwardly in his oversized winter coat, picking his nose with all the subtlety of a jackhammer.

“Bingo,” Robot whispered with a wicked grin. “Burkin’s got lunch money, and that means we’ve got a new target.”

Zombie turned his head sluggishly, “Target…” he echoed, the single word barely audible as snowflakes landed on his shoulders.

Robot cracked his knuckles and strutted toward the group of teens, flashing his best “leader” smirk. “Hey Burkin!” he called out, his voice dripping with fake enthusiasm. “You look like a guy who knows where to score some serious cash, right?”

Todd blinked slowly, still mid-nose-pick. “Uh… what?”

Robot rolled his eyes. “Cash, Burkin. Moolah. Green stuff. You know—money.”

Ben Corbin, the bratty preppy kid with a knack for whining, scoffed loudly. “What are you, some kind of hobo robot? What’s with your clothes? You look like you crawled out of a dumpster.”

Robot’s grin faded. “I’m the one giving fashion lessons here, pal! This is vintage. You wouldn’t understand—”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re a loser,” Ben shot back, flipping his perfectly gelled hair. His smug grin quickly disappeared, however, when Zombie shuffled closer, eyes vacant and drool hanging from his mouth. Ben backed up nervously. “Whoa, is he—uh, he’s not gonna… eat me, right?”

Robot, always quick to regain control (or pretend he had it), slapped Zombie’s shoulder. “Nah, he’s fine. Just ignore the drooling, that’s normal. Listen, forget about him. Let’s talk money, Burkin. I hear your family’s got tons of it.”

Todd, still confused, shrugged. “I dunno, man. My mom gave me, like, five bucks for hot cocoa and stuff.”

Robot grinned triumphantly. “Perfect. Hand it over.”

But before Todd could react, Cathy, Vanessa, and Cindy strolled over, immediately cringing at the sight of Robot. Cathy, wearing a Nirvana shirt and combat boots, was the first to fire a shot. “Oh no, it’s you again. How do you still exist in this town?”

Vanessa tossed her long hair over her shoulder and winked at Zombie. “Zombie’s the only one with any sense here. What’s your plan this time, Robot? Steal a snowman’s nose?”

Zombie, seemingly entranced by the conversation, leaned toward Vanessa, trying to put her head in his mouth. She swatted him playfully. “Not today, Z.”

Robot groaned in frustration. “C’mon, you bunch of wannabes! I’m here to make something happen. Don’t you want to be part of something big?”

Cindy, the picture of local pride in her cozy J.Crew sweater, glared at Robot. “Big? You? The only thing big around here is the mess you’re about to make.”

Just as she spoke, a loud crash echoed through the parking lot. The local townspeople turned their heads to see that Robot had somehow toppled a large snowman display, sending its head rolling down the street. The carrot nose flew off, landing in the snow, and the now-headless snowman looked almost tragic.

Robot crossed his arms smugly. “See? That’s the kind of impact I’m talking about. You all are witnessing genius in action.”

Cathy facepalmed. “It’s a snowman, Robot. You just destroyed a snowman.”

Ignoring her, Robot spotted the festival's donation booth, where neatly dressed volunteers were collecting money for the local animal shelter. His eyes gleamed with greed. “Z, I’ve got a new plan,” he whispered, leaning into Zombie, who was now distracted by his own reflection in a nearby car window.

“Plan…” Zombie mumbled, watching his reflection with a half-zombie groan.

Robot dashed toward the donation booth, but before he could enact whatever ridiculous scheme he had in mind, the booth’s manager—an elderly woman in a knit scarf—stared him down with steely eyes. She didn’t need to say anything. Her glare said it all: “Don’t even think about it.”

Robot froze, then slowly backed away, trying to save face. “Uh, I wasn’t gonna… yeah, no. Totally wasn’t gonna do anything.”

Meanwhile, Zombie had wandered off toward the festival’s hot cocoa stand, where Todd Burkin was clumsily trying to balance three cups of cocoa. Without warning, Zombie reached out, knocked the cups from Todd’s hands, and began slurping the spilled cocoa directly from the snow.

Ben Corbin erupted in laughter. “Oh man, you two are the worst!”

Robot, now realizing his plans for riches and fame had once again fallen apart, threw his hands in the air. “This town is a conspiracy, man! They don’t want us to succeed! They’re trying to keep me down!”

Cathy smirked. “Maybe because you’re a complete disaster.”

Robot waved her off, stomping back toward the parking lot with Zombie stumbling behind him, still licking cocoa-stained snow from his fingers.

“Let’s get outta here, Z,” Robot grumbled. “This place doesn’t deserve us.”

Zombie let out a low moan, “Deserve…”

And as they walked away into the snowy streets, leaving chaos in their wake, the peaceful town of Mendleton let out a collective sigh of relief.