Submission

Privilege, the halls of power and what drives those who wield it to deign it that way.

“Right,” said Bu'zaw, Earth’s new administrative assistant. “I’m trying to understand this. I am. Let me see if I have this straight.”

“Go on,” prompted Britanian Ambassador Winthrop.

“A relatively small percentage of the overall population have power over the larger percentage by means of building upon centuries of conquering and exploitation.”

“

A reunion of the tall woman and the future good guy at day 74 of the training course he pursued. Another nice guy makes an appearance.

Common belief tells us that it takes three months to make a good habit. And one to form a bad one. So far, he was on day 74. His third day back into the real world, with his new perspective on many of the problems that the ladies of the world encountered.

Most of them were

The conversation between Kelly and Duncan post meltdown due to Scott’s revenge.

“…fucking bitches…”

Kelly did some paperwork while he waited. This particular disturbance needed some analysis beyond, “This looks like Essel’s work.” No. Not Essel. Adrien, Sara Louise. She had things in her permanent record that escalated in complexity. This was the first time her MO had included co-conspiritors.

Co-conspirators Kelly noted, who had complained about Mr Matthews and had not

Include anywhere: cashews, a drill press, silly men and a whistle.

There were times, she swore, when the station was overrun with humans. Like this one. The Festival of Live Performances bought them out of the woodwork.

She’d already passed four living statues and an eight-foot bride on the way to work, and got a cashew bar off the bride for the Minutes she put into the hat. Ant'il would have to donate it to the food bank, later. She

Clarity, confidence, the nice guy and when someone finally listens and learns.

It started with a T-shirt. It read, If you think the world is full of assholes, maybe you’re the asshole. He knew he wasn’t an asshole, so he called the guy in the shirt one as he passed the other way.

Then there were the billboards and adverts. It was for a men’s charm school, he figured. He didn’t need that noise.

Chicken feathers, a glass eye and a grasshopper.

“The least you could do is pitch in,” grumped Hwell as he alternated between shovel and pick.

“The least I could do,” argued Axand'l, “is go meditate while you indulge yourself in this… adventure holiday.” He tisked at the thought of wasting time on frivolous things. “As it is, I am recording this for edutainment purposes.”

Hwell rolled his eyes as if to say, Saurians!

The fourth day of therapy for the man who’s ‘Appreciation’ for Julie was dashed by Shayde’s particular brand of intervention.

Day four. The human man known on his paperwork as John Smith still rocked himself in place. He still preferred a soft, gentle environment. He did not want any variety of toy that had eyes.

He had, however, finally stopped repeating, “They wanted to eat me.”

Orsiz'edand'l viewed this as a positive sign. Human