Chapter 1: Tuesday [SK]
She was now officially through with earthly men.
Instead, Zoe longed for sleek, oval heads, fornication minus gravity, the touch of cool, green skin, and creative ways to sexually utilize antennae.
She sat at her desk, swiveling in her swivel chair, ignoring the meaningless chit-chat of hopeless office suitors.
"Sanders," Alvin spat, his fat face perched upon the cubicle wall. "Have you ever thought about people in the military whose last name is Sanders? You know, who've been promoted to the position of Colonel?" His shoulders twitched to indicate this statement's profundity. "After all, Sanders is a very common last name. They're probably laughed at on a frequent basis. Maybe there should be a small organization dedicated to all the Colonel Sanderses out there. You know, something like the Ronald McDonald Foundation."
Zoe nodded, staring vacantly at the terminal screen, daydreaming about martian babies. If she ever got one, she promised herself, she'd name him Steve.
It was at that particular moment, Zoe was seized with the compulsion to do something absolutely random and purely crazy. It seemed painfully obvious that all of her cosmological aspirations were not to be found by water coolers or performance review meetings.
But as soon as Alvin began to describe every Michael Jackson he had ever met, her initial instinct was to sterilize him with a karate chop and hop out of the twelve story window.
Too dramatic, she thought. Let's start with quitting.
Of course, it made no financial sense to seek unemployment, but at that particular moment, there was nothing more appealing than getting sacked with a singular, screaming blaze of glory.
That is, of course, with the possible exception of humping on Venus.
