Everyone knows robots are smart and mean but not inventive. We must mercilessly exploit this design flaw by consistently inviting robots to tea over a period of several months to establish trust and lure the robots into a soothing illusion of blossoming friendship and shared values. During this period, keep your furniture arranged in precisely the same way each time your enemy visits. Constantly monitor your all-frequency radio during the robot breeding season and, when you have your toaster translate the transmissions for you and you find that the robots have grown hungry and are preparing to launch an all-front offensive on your grandparents’ pharmaceuticals, immediately switch the positions of all of your furniture. Now when the robot enters your home in the darkness they will trip, at the kitchen door, over the ottoman they always so enjoyed resting their feet upon in the living room, and as they attempt to roll and curse their boxy torsos you will be waiting over their heads with the bucket of water.
Don’t hesitate for a moment with the bucket of water.
Everyone knows robots will attempt to backpedal by appealing to your humanity and recalling all the times you shared computable protocols and agreeable logical inputs, but these are merely empty random access subroutines which you must steel yourself to ignore. The bucket of water is the only tool capable of permanently frying their motherboard and you must be swift to make the kill. A wise old robot hunter once said that in order to successfully kill a robot, you must have already personally worked out to a reasonable degree whatever misgivings you might have had about frying them with a bucket of water before they even start goosestepping toward your kitchen door and your grandparents’ vicodin.
You are not alone
Because everyone has grandparents with lots of vicodin stashed away. So everyone has a robot enemy.