PLANET MAGAZINE

Illustration: “Miz Devastation” © 2006 by Romeo Esparrago.

“We ordered a puppy today!” Sheri announced excitedly to her mother. The woman’s pudgy face on the screen wrinkled into a frown, lower lip nearly disappearing into the first of her many chins. Sheri knew telling her mother would be a bad idea.

“Well, I hope that goes well for you.” Years of oxygen therapy had turned the older woman’s voice to a high-pitched wail. But if you asked Sheri, her mother had always sounded that way when she was about to tell her daughter in exactly which way she had lost her mind this time. “Not to try to dissuade you, dear, but I heard on the news that those things are just crawling with disease and absolutely impossible to train. And what about the baby? I’m not saying that it’s dangerous to have that thing crawling around on the floor with her, but I would think about it, if I were you. What if it tore off her arm? Here, I’ll send you some things I’ve found.” The eyes looked down at the touchpad and squinted to find just the right evidence to send to her wayward daughter. Her fingers made some selections and she bit at her lip with perfect teeth.

Sheri attempted to hide her irritation with her mother. She held her features in a perfect imitation of interest and affection, learning long ago that it was the best way to deal with the woman. She fidgeted in her red faux-leather executive chair, adjusted the seams of her mini-skirt, and attempted to pull the rest of her long, brown hair into a ponytail. “Mom, I have a client coming in. Can I call you later?”

“Fine, but read what I sent you.” Just then, a small envelope icon appeared at the bottom corner of the screen, announcing that her mother’s bomb had just arrived.

“I will, Mom. I love you. I’ll tell Mike you called.” The screen went black and was quickly replaced with the company logo, a spinning dolphin balancing a globe on its nose. “Economology In Action!” scrolled along beneath it.

Sheri took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She could use a sunbath after that. Maybe she would convince Mike to go with her to the club for a couple of hours. It would be nice to spend some time just lying under the lamps, absorbing the therapeutic neo-rays. But until then, she had work to think about. And she wasn’t lying about the client.

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