Transforms from car to robot and back!

AUTOBOT: SIZZLE

FUNCTION: INTERCEPTOR
"Life in the fast lane is the only life worth living."

Exceeds the speed limit and every other limit. Drives faster, uses more energy and gets into more fights than any other Autobot. A thrill-seeker. Enjoys life only when he's in danger. If he's not burning rubber, he's scorching Decepticons with his flamethrower exaust. Maximum speed: 220 mph. Range: 550 miles.

  • Strength: 4
  • Intelligence: 7
  • Speed: 6
  • Endurance: 7
  • Rank: 5
  • Courage: 7
  • Firepower: 6
  • Skill: 5
Transformers Tech Specs


Sizzle's vehicle mode was a modified Pontiac Firebird with an exposed engine. Like his fellow Sparkabots, his "flamethrower exhaust" was created using a flint-and-friction spark shooter that fired from the back of the car as it rolled along the ground.

confidential information: user ZenPilot292
talks a million miles an hour, has a serious stutter, and certainly some mental disability
I'm unable to determine (I won't try to extrapolate) though it's clear we'e sinking in quicksand
while I learn random tidbits about his life--his wife is asian (god bless her), his father
passed away which more than likely explains the half a million dollars piddling in his account--
and I'd probably be doing him more of a favor if I let everything stay right where it belongs.

nothing resolves except me eventually pushing TRANSFER
with that uneasy feeling you get when you're trying to disengage with someone
who wants to be your very best friend, and for the rest of the day the guilt hangs around me like a cloud,
I'm overly ecstatic when clients can speak in fully formed sentences
but none of them have the flair of adding "poo" to the end of their words
like an overly gushy spouse and toward the end of the day, as my brain begins to sizzle
for a brief second I come to understand how it actually feels to be an entirely different species than everyone else around you,
people are holding a conversation directly across my chair and I'm just sort of standing there gaping a toothy dumb grin
with absolutely zero words to contribute, not even in the deepest registry of my saved files do I have something
remotely worth saying while in the meanwhile, the aliens around me appear to be talking in warp speed
about women's soccer, NetFlix, and their extended, infinte Puerto Rican family.

after we're done,
on some President's highway my brain has commenced sizzling
and now, really begun some form of evil internal combustion, the eighteen wheeler behind me doesn't look like a truck
,it looks like a news article I saw on Tracy Morgan--he now can sleep safely knowing the culprit was
indicted, "indicted" one of the most lovely words for a masochist to think about as he wades through
some dead president traffic, futures trading in his mind of melatonin, a book on corporate fraud
(not the glow of the screen for your retina) and tomorrows repeat headset

before reset/reboot there's this, a comedy, the culmination of our day's labors--
I'm sitting in the living room "the living room" in western architecture is for socializing
so I close down my laptop and sit back down with only my phone as my weapon and with no scrolling news stories to distract me
I'm compelled to ask my guest what her husband is going to get her for Christmas but she seems to not hear me, she's reading the real newspaper
in front of her face, so I speak up, louder now, "so what is Charles getting you for Christmas?" and she puts down the newspaper finally
and reminds me of information that had undoubtedly gone into my head, not once --but possibly five to six separate instances--
when she says, "Hunny. Charles is dead," then starts laughing, and laughs some more, "Charles. he's getting dirt."

Siz"zle (?), v. i. [imp. & p. p. Sizzled (?); p. pr. & vb. n. Sizzling (?).] [See Siss.]

To make a hissing sound; to fry, or to dry and shrivel up, with a hissing sound.

[Prov. Eng. & Colloq. U. S.]

Forby.

 

© Webster 1913.


Siz"zle, n.

A hissing sound, as of something frying over a fire.

[Prov. Eng. & Colloq. U. S.]

 

© Webster 1913.

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