I'd like to thank optimus prime 007, who was cool with me using a title she had used for one of her stories.

A Day In the Life of: Gears

Gears slammed his fist down hard against the computer console and stormed off without even bothering to switch it off. Those nearby could tell he was exceptionally annoyed, far more than usual. His rumbles and curses were kept hushed but it was obvious Gears was anything but content.

"Again!" he finally shouted loud enough and clearly enough for half the duty roster to hear. "Passed over for promotion-again!"

The annual report announcing all Autobots receiving an upgrade in rank had been released, and once again Gears' name was not to be found. It had become a sort of inside joke, a topic of conversation on all-night duty shifts and deep-space missions.

"I've had enough!" he yelled, sending all Autobots in the immediate vicinity scurrying to other destinations. Only the laid-back pacifist Beachcomber remained to listen to Gears frustrations.

"Having a bad day?" the blue Autobot asked innocently.

"A bad day?" Gears repeated with a heavy dose of sarcasm. "More like a bad lifetime!"

Never one to leave a friend in a foul mood, Beachcomber inquired as to what had happened to set the diminutive grump off.

"I'll tell you what happened. The same thing that happens every year going on twenty years!" Gears spotted an empty chair next to an observation porthole and claimed it. Beachcomber kept pace and stood at his side. "I got passed over for promotion."

"Really?" Beachcomber responded. "Again?"

An aggravated glance found its way to Beachcomber's head. "Yes. Again."

"Well, maybe there's a logical reason for it."

"Like what?" Gears demanded to know.

Beachcomber took a few moments to carefully choose words that wouldn't offend his fellow Autobot. His last intention was wanting to add fuel to the fire, so when he couldn't think of any thing positive to say, he remained silent.

"That's what I thought," Gears grumbled. "There's no good reason for me being overlooked year after year. The selection committee hates me."

Beachcomber let out a simple chuckle at such an obvious statement. "Well, can you blame them?" he said with a smile plastered on his faceplate. "You've managed to insult the entire committee at least once a week ever since we crashed on Earth."

"What are you talking about?"

Beachcomber was fast to respond. He decided that in this particular instance, the truth needed to be heard, no matter what ill-effects it may end up having on their friendship. "You told Grapple to quit wasting energy on his 'structures of whimsy' and you nearly brought Hoist to resign when you referred to his latest sculpture as 'Slag on a Pole'."

"Did you see it?" Gears asked undeterred.

"You called Prowl an insensitive glitcher."

"Is he not?"

Beachcomber lowered his voice a bit before continuing. "And lets not forget my personal favorite. The time you insinuated Ironhide's kept his position as Chief of Security for so long was because he's been...how did you put it?" There was a pause in the story, then a snapping of fingers after remembering the best part. "Greasing Prime's exhaust pipe!"

Gears remembered that day fondly and allowed a rare smile to emerge. "That was pretty good, wasn't it?"

"Let's face it, buddy, you're too vocal, too angry, and above all too opinionated." Beachcomber braced himself for a comeback, perhaps an outburst of physical violence caused by the bluntness of the words spoken.

"Maybe you're right," Gears said calmly, instantly shocking Beachcomber with his passive demeanor. "Maybe I should try to be a little nicer, maybe less judgemental of others."

Beachcomber was stunned. "Way to be, Gears, way to be!" He patted Gears on the shoulder and excused himself, choosing to retire to his personal quarters for a while before reporting for his science shift.

Gears sat in silence for a few moments, watching his friend leave the room and reflecting on what he said. Sincerely trying to allow it time to sink in and resonate within his being. And then he spoke.

"What an arrogant, scrap-sucking know-it-all!"

The End.