Why Oh Why?

Posted on 03/13/2022 @ 8:07am by

663 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: Mini Mission: When The Cat's Away
Location: Promenade, Deck 67-14 Graphic Zest Gallery
Timeline: MD002 - 1600

From the moment Mrs Moreau had opted to open her gallery on deck 67, everything seemed to happen at once. A bureaucrat from civil affairs had passed by to check that everything was in order, something that could only be verified by her signing half a dozen documents. This task had barely been completed when a pack of Ferengis descended upon her premises. Those had been sent by Brek. They were part of the New Contract, they told her, implying that the damn thing had been cast in stone and the whole galaxy turned around it.

Their company was called ‘Repairs Sharks’ and they went about their business as if she didn’t exist. She did exist though, and after twenty minutes or so, she told those who were working in the office to lower their voices (they were shouting and sometimes even singing). Her request was received with a wide range of stares, mostly libidinous, murderous or shocked at being addressed in such a manner by a female.

Then, when she saw the mess that those in the gallery itself were making, she asked them if it was absolutely necessary for them to put their greasy fingers on her white walls. The leader of the pack took a dubious rag to wipe the offending black marks, transforming them into a grey smudge. While doing so, he muttered something that might have been ‘wimminfolk’, it was difficult to tell with his strong accent.

“Yes. Not so Great. Monsieur Ferengi, I’m sure you can do better. Otherwise, I can assure you, your profits will suffer!”

She decided that now was the right time to go out in search of a good glass of wine. And that there would be no better place for that than deck 70. Brek had told her not to settle on that deck because a place called Elysian Dreams was there, and it was apparently cursed. A claim that was well worth investigating.

Over the past few hours, she had received several messages from the Ferengi Ambassador, which went as follow:

‘Sending a new contract .The one you scribbled was just a wish list, forgetting your obligations to me.’

‘Nice forest views would do great in the gallery.’

‘Why did you choose to call the gallery Graphic Zest, though? It sounds... like something else.’

‘Since you don’t like your first name, why don’t you use an alias instead?’

‘What do you think of the name Emma? It would suit you well.’

‘What about Arielle?’

‘Josephine?'

‘Are you sulking?’

Miffed as she was by the yet unseen new contract, she had replied to none of those missives. So yes, she was brooding. She had an idea this new deal would effe her up so much, she wouldn't be able to see straight for a while. There would be long hours, no freedom, pitiful allowance that would put her on cheap food most days, and the obligation to accompany the ambassador in soirées and banquets, everytime he deemed it necessary. On those occasions she would have to be amicable and all smiles of course.

She entered a turbolift and produced a heavy sigh. There was a tellarite (build rather like a bear) inside the lift, who, seeing her distress, asked her if she needed any help.

“Not at all. I’ve already got all the help I can stomach. Thank you all the same.”

“Just saying, if you are troubled in any way, I’d be happy to be of service.” He insisted.

“No doubt. But I’m perfectly fine. Just maybe a little tired.” She managed a smile that might just give the impression that she was constipated, and she left the lift as soon as the doors opened.

Why was she always meeting atypical people? Why couldn’t she, for once, have a nice encounter with a fine looking human being in possession of a normal IQ?

Why oh why?

..................................................
Mrs Moreau
Graphic Zest Art Gallery
Poseidon

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