Maks, Hania and Zuzka the cyber pig tinker in their inventor grandpa’s garage, where one forbidden button wakes the Impossible Joke Machine and sets off a very strange afternoon.
Maks and Hania spent the whole summer afternoon in Grandpa’s old garage, which was less a workshop and more a treasure chest that had exploded. Screws glittered in jam jars. Wires snaked across the floor. A screwdriver hung from the ceiling on a rubber band, bobbing gently like it was waiting for instructions.
They loved it there. Not just because of the strange inventions with blinking buttons and labels like REMOVE ONLY IF BRAVE, but because of Zuzka. She was Grandpa’s cyber pig, the first pig robot in the world, with bright green glasses and a habit of grunting in French whenever she was confused, annoyed, or pleased with herself. Grandpa always said his workshop could do impossible things. Usually right before something impossible happened.
That afternoon Maks found a remote control on the workbench. It had one sticker on it in block letters: DO NOT PUSH - especially if you are hungry.
Maks looked at Hania. Hania looked at Maks.
They both stared at the red button.
“Well,” Maks said, trying to sound innocent and failing completely.
He pressed it.
There was a metallic CLANG from the darkest corner of the garage. A jar of pickles shot out from behind a toolbox, tied to a balloon, spun twice in the air, and landed in Zuzka’s feeding bowl with a splat.
Hania’s eyes widened. “Was that supposed to happen?”
Before Maks could answer, a purple light flickered across the wall. Something under the workbench whirred, sneezed, and rolled out on tiny wheels. It looked like a toaster had tried to become a candyfloss machine and given up halfway through. Plastic moustaches were stuck all over it. On the front, in cheerful silver letters, it said: IMPOSSIBLE JOKE MACHINE.
Maks grinned. “Zuzka. Super roar mode.”
Zuzka’s eyes lit up. She made a metallic snort, then somehow played the first notes of “Happy Birthday” through her tail, which was not something any pig should be able to do. The machine answered with a low, pleased purr.
Then a voice crackled from inside it.
“Get ready for the WORLD’S WORST pranks! Countdown: three... two... one...”
Coloured smoke puffed from the vents. A bench flipped upside down by itself. One of the shelves gave a worried wobble. Grandpa burst through the side door wearing unicorn pyjamas and carrying a sausage-patterned umbrella.
“What on earth have you—” he began.
The machine beeped louder.
Something shaped like a flying cucumber sandwich zipped across the room.
Zuzka launched after it with a triumphant snort. Hania doubled over laughing. Maks reached for the glowing switch, which had just turned neon pink and was growing warmer under his fingers.
Then every light in the garage flashed at once.
And from inside the cupboard, just beyond the rows of dusty paint tins, came a slow, deliberate knock.