See what happens in this novelization of the hilarious and completely original motion picture from Sony Pictures Animation, The Mitchells vs. the Machines—featuring 8 full-color pages with images from the movie!
The Mitchells are a dysfunctional yet loving family whose road trip is interrupted by a tech uprising: all around the world, the electronic devices people love—from phones to refrigerators to an appealing new line of personal robots—decide it’s time to take over. With the help of two friendly malfunctioning robots and the family’s delightfully chubby pug, the Mitchells will have to get past their problems and work together to save each other and the world!
Chapter One: And… Action!
CHAPTER ONE And… Action! We all want to be the perfect family.
But who’s actually perfect? We all know that every family has its challenges, from picture day to picky eaters.
For my family, the Mitchells, our greatest challenge is probably… the machine apocalypse.
My dad gripped the steering wheel of our old station wagon as it plowed through a squad of robots. White robot bits crunched beneath the tires, making everyone in the car fly out of their seats. It made all the junk in our car fly up too, including my dad’s open coffee cup.
“Argh!” my dad yelled. The scalding brown liquid dripped from his glasses and scruffy beard. “Hot! Hot!”
“Rick, I told you to get a lid!” my mom scolded. She reached over and dabbed at his face with a wad of tissues.
Something grabbed my hair. “Aah!” I screamed, but then I realized it was only our pudgy pug, Monchi. As always, one of his big bug eyes stared straight at me while the other seemed to be scanning the floorboard for crumbs.
“Ugh! The dog’s biting my hair!” I pulled the red strands of hair out of his slobbery mouth.
“Dad, look out!” Aaron, my eight-year-old brother, shouted as he pointed to a new group of approaching robots.
The machines each had a black faceplate with a red light for an eye. They all ran toward us with thin outstretched arms.
Everyone slid from side to side as my dad swerved through the attackers. “Katie, use a weapon!” he yelled at me.
I grabbed an old shoe and flung it at a robot, except I forgot to roll down the window first. The shoe bounced off the glass and smacked me in the forehead. “Ow!” I said.
My mom pointed ahead. “Honey, look out!”
Our car barreled toward the biggest group of robots yet. Even more of them flew down from the sky, shooting blue laser beams at us.
“Aaaah!” we all screamed.
Okay, so we’re not warriors, obviously. And where most action heroes have a lot of strengths, my family only has weaknesses. We may not be that brave or that strong or even that competent, but we ARE somehow in charge of saving the world.