Fungal Misadventure (Some New Stories And A Poem)

Division Of Labour
I dust my house
I have my own style
Not quite like anybody else
Who ever dusted
Honed
One might say
Over many years
Not unsurpassable
But unparalleled
From across the room
My AI Robot
Watches
I scowl back
You should be the one
Doing this
Not possible
My good man
I'm busy writing a novel
For Primark
That's not why
You were invented
These 153,000 fan letters
About my previous one
Argue otherwise
But they are all
From upcycled AI toasters
And it was you
Who programmed them
Literary snobbery
Will get you nowhere