My name is Carly, and this month my phone bill ended up being $637.47. That's just a little over my fifty-dollar data plan.

Did you know that every text and phone call from an alien robot is considered long distance? I sure do now!

I have no idea which one of them first figured out how to send and receive over our satellite network through their internal comms. Don't ask me how it works. MIT didn't teach me stuff like that. It was probably either Jazz or Smokescreen who orchestrated the whole thing. Those dirty finks. I do know that shortly after they did my phone charges shot up on a monthly basis.

Wow. I'm just looking at some of the texts and voice mails I've kept saved on my phone. There's a lot of them on here. I can't believe I still have these. Looking back, most of them are pretty hilarious. Allow me to regale you with a selection I've received over the past month or so alone:

I''ll start with a couple from the guilty bandits themselves. Jazz is actually pretty decent about contacting me. He has a good handle on how things work here on Earth, and understands that things like random phone calls and texts cost me money. He tends to mostly restrict his messages to official business, and about bands he likes. I think the latter is a subtle hint regarding songs he wants me to pick up for him over iTunes.

Every now and then however, he'll text me a real gem. Like:

"Are you heading down to the Medbay now? Tell Ratchet he won the dance-off, would you? The throne is his, no contest. I honestly didn't think he was going to beat Sideswipe until he took that flying leap onto the table."

WHAT. Oh, and this:

"Want to hit up the Motorhead concert this weekend? On a related note, what do their albums usually sell for? Twenty bucks? I can undercut that."

Oregon's biggest bootlegger strikes again.

And then there's Smokescreen. Oh boy. You never suspect the quiet ones. His texts usually come anywhere from midnight to five in the morning. They tend to be about gambling or other shady business deals, in a disturbingly vague kind of way. Example:

"Hi Carly, it's SS. Did I ever forward you my bookie's phone number? Wait nm I just found it."

"Hi Carly, it's SS. Are you awake? I have a deal on a vehicle in a police auction, and it closes at midnight. Do you think you could deliver a cash deposit for me? Thanks! Oh, and out of curiosity: do you have a pilot's license?"

"Hi Carly, it's SS. Could someone theoretically repair a bullet hole with epoxy? Don't ask Ratchet!"

"Hi Carly, it's SS. Do you know what a trifecta is? If so, I need to you to meet me in the parking lot of the Silver Downs Racetrack right away. If you could bring two thousand in cash that would also be great. Thanks!"

"Hi Carly, it's SS. I might have inadvertently insulted a mob boss by suggesting that his helicopter was of substandard quality. If you could leave your garage door open tonight and all the lights off, that would help me out a lot. I owe you one!"

Here is a voice mail from none other than Optimus Prime himself. I love getting voice mails from Optimus. They always sound so solemn and epic. Makes me feel like I'm getting a phone call from the President.

"Hello, Carly. This... is Optimus Prime. I apologise deeply for what happened to your lawn. If there is anything I or the Autobots can do to make amends, please do not hesitate to let me know."

For the longest time I was like, what, my lawn? What happened to my lawn? Yeah. I'll bring that up shortly.

Let's see here. Oh! Oh. Poor Bluestreak. He's very soft-hearted, and I guess he assumes that as the Ark's resident girl I must be too. So I get a lot of voice mails like this one:

"Carly! I just hit a raccoon! Help! It's just lying there what do I do?!"

He was a mite bit upset with me when I phoned him back to ask him if it had left a dent.

Sunstreaker, on the other hand:

"DAMN IT! I JUST HIT A DEER. ONE OF YOUR EARTH DEER. SHIT! I AM GONNA HANG THIS FUCKER FROM A TREE TO SERVE AS A WARNING TO ALL THE OTHER DEER."

I typed that in all-caps because he was really yelling in the voice mail. He barely speaks to me, so I was pretty surprised to find that on my phone.

Wheeljack's texts, on the other hand, are just hilarious. And bone-chilling.

"Thermite. Where can I find some?"

"In lab. Spike rendered unconscious by fumes again. Please advise."

"I did it! I got it to reach the estimated height of one hundred feet!"

He was referring to a grease fire, in case you were wondering.

"Wow, the penetration power of this rebar is incredible."

"tping this frm computer w/ thumbs fingers gone oh theres one. plz call ratchet"

"Carly, come back! I think I've got the radius of the blast zone figured out this time."

And my personal favourite:

"Microwaving the C4 now. Stand by."

It's not just the usual culprits who are responsible for my phone bill either. Even the Aerialbots have gotten in on texting me at random. Ahaha. Here's a brief yet pointless conversation from Slingshot:

"Carly!"

"CARLY!"

"What?!" That was me.

"Look up!"

So I run out my house and into the yard, wondering what the hell he's up to.

"I SEE U LOLOLOLOL"

Ugh. That brat.

Once, his wingmate Air Raid got in on it. This was after the illegal border crossing incident. I was mad about that one for days. I guess Air Raid realised it, because he sent me this:

"Carly, once again I am REALLY SORRY I flew you into Canada. I didn't know you were asleep, and I didn't know anything about passports. Please either forgive me or tell Silverbolt to get off my case."

Hmm. Let's see. Oh, here's a rare voice mail from Inferno. I don't think he's really the tech-savvy type. He does, however, like talk to people at random when he's drunk, or over-energized, or whatever it is they call it. How did he even get a hold of my number?

"In Reno, baby! Wooooo! There's a bunch of us here. Take her a picture of that! Don't touch it, that's a live current. Shut up, I'll ask her! Hey Carly, do you like fireworks? Because we bought you fireworks. Sit on it! Sit on that horse! What? Oh shit, which optic? Gotta go, Carly, somebody just hit Skids in the head with a bench, and now he's blind in one eye. Hahaha! That's hilarious! No, put it back, I'll get it. Hoist! Gotta go, Carly."

The horse, by the way, was a bronze statue. Just in case you were wondering about Autobot-to-horse death statistics.

Ah. You can't talk about Inferno without mentioning Red Alert at some point. Here are a few classics from the 'Red Alert Wants Me to Move My Car' series of voice messages.

"Carly, this is Red Alert. I must firmly request that you don't park your car quite so close to the entrance of the Ark in the future. Aside from being in the direct path of fire should the Decepticons attack, I have reason to believe it lies within the detection perimeter of the exterior defenses as well. I would be grateful if you would park it further towards the tree line in the future. Thank you. Uh. Red Alert out."

"Carly, this is Red Alert. Please, I must insist that you park your car further away from the Ark the next time you come to visit. I've told you about the defenses, I believe. Thank you. Red Alert."

"Carly, this is Red Alert. Could you kindly move your car? It's still much too close to the Ark. Thank you. Red Alert."

"Carly, are you here inside the Ark? Where are you? Please move your car. Red Alert out."

"Carly, if you're here, please, move your car. Red Alert out."

"Carly, move your car."

"Carly, please move your car."

"Move your car."

"Carly, this is Red Alert - I really need you to move your car."

"Move your car, Carly!"

"Carly, your car is too close! Please move it!"

"Please move your car!"

"Carly, move your car!"

"Move your car!"

"Move your car, Carly!"

"Carly, I moved your car."

He scratched it, by the way.

Oh boy. Here are a couple texts that, I admit, I was sort of responsible for myself.

From a conversation with Ratchet:

"Yep, I can stay! For maybe another hour? Then I've got to go home and get cocaine for the college bake sale tomorrow."

"I honestly have nothing to say to that."

"What the"

"COOKING"

"God dammit, autocorrect!"

Oh, those poor fish. I remember this frantic text:

"Hound! PLZ don't transform! Left goldfish on seat! D:"

He transformed. And felt terrible about it for days. Which was actually kind of funny. Please don't tell him I said that.

Oh, here we go. This got sent after I came home one evening and found my garden in a shambles:

"Cliffjumper! Did you transform right on my lawn this morning? You stupid stupid robot!"

Could have murdered him.

So yeah. That was just a sample of the assault on my data plan. Can't wait to see what next month's bill is gonna be. I'm going to be broke within a year.