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stunned Coyote
ray gun romance
By Marie Kazalia
It’s one of her
first assignments through the temp agency. The regular secretary is there in
the morning to meet her, show her the lay of the receptionist desk, how to
turn on the Mac, the coffee maker, then takes her fat ass in pink jogging
suit out the door on vacation. Leaves the temp girl alone with a stack of
Harlequin romance novel under the wrap around desk and a couple of mad
scientists in soundproof glass offices.
She looks up as the main mad scientist guy comes flying out of his office,
goes into a side room-- twirling the dial on a safe, taking some papers out,
checking something, returning the papers to the safe, closing and spinning
the dial again, rushing back to his office before he forgets what he'd just
checked.
A couple minutes later back again tot he safe, then rushing back into his
office. He must have been a mind-reader for one of those times he stopped to
tell the temp that they had Federal government contracts, top secret
documents, so that's why the wall safe, (which was required to get the
contracts), and if she should happen to see anything she should just pretend
she hadn't.
The phone seldom rang but when it did she had some trouble pressing the
correct buttons and transferring the calls.
After lunch she began doodling in Paint Shop, and the main mad scientist, a
little more relaxed toward her said, while looking at the computer screen,
"Now that's really great art," with a laugh, and rushed back into his
soundproof office. She felt hurt by that comment, for she'd been a child
prodigy and had even had a degree in fine art.
By afternoon she'd begun printing her doodles on the laser printer, and
photocopying them onto clear acetate sheets she overlapping into moiré
patterns.
The second day the mad scientists seemed much more at ease with her
around--she obviously wasn't a spy or a safe cracker or anything.
By late morning
she'd begun to read the good parts of one of those romance novels,
embarrassed at first, but she'd always wondered what such crap had inside
its covers and now had a chance (without being seen) to find out. Flipped
through page after page of setup, searching for the real stuff--in this
one, a beautiful young woman ends up alone in a log cabin with a gorgeous
stud hunk out on some prairie in the olden days-- they start making out,
she's a virgin of course but wants it real bad and he wants her real bad
because she's got a body that won't quit in more ways than one. It hurts but
she takes it like a woman. Then they part, destined (after several pages of
crap) to meet again alone in the same remote cabin. This time she
comes-on-to-him defiantly thrusting up her noble breasts (he fondly
remembers them) until the real-man-that-he-is takes her again--- doesn't
want to take advantage of her but what choice does he have? She wants it--and
just then the major mad scientist comes flying out of his office and catches
her on page 200-and
-something, obviously just reading the good parts, a little hot---and he
almost smirks.
She tosses the pulp onto the stack at her knees, embarrassed. That had been
no way to kill time. She'd figured the whole so-called novel out in ten
minutes--of course the hunk was in love with the babe and wanted her, why
else had he come back? He just wanted to be certain she really wanted him
just as much--he played it safe, but let her risk her feelings...
The minor mad scientist appears from one of the back, darker, soundproof
offices and asks her to type-up a draft of a proposal. Then he and the major
mad scientist sort of stood off talking together, watching to see if she
could type, that is word process, as she pecked around on the keyboard.
After a couple minutes they sort of checked
their watches simultaneously, then retreated to their luxury cells.
Part way into the document she realizes they have left her with a precise
description of a working prototype of a particle-beam weapon--- and
it said right there on the paper, in measurements, materials and detailed
operating procedures. Fuck. She couldn't believe it at first, then just
started typing the thing up. These fuckers have government weapons contracts
and she'd just walked in off the street, practically, from the temp agency.
Then she remembered her own FBI security clearance from working that crappy
temporary Census Bureau job.
How she came to be here and the attitude of the mad scientists suddenly made
sense.
She played it cool, typed as fast as she could, thinking each time she read
some new aspect of how the ray gun (phaser on stun) worked, that Wiley
Coyote could have ordered one from Acme and had it delivered to his
cave---the casualness and these fuckers, trying to impress her just a little
bit weren't they. She actually did have a typing speed and finished the
thing, sent it to the printer. Sheets of paper were just coming out when the
minor scientist appeared to check on her progress-- amazed she'd finished
and then a little embarrassed for showing it. The major mad scientist blew
pas,t off to the safe yet again, then returning, stopped to look over the
printed report.
They obviously now had more respect for her and she less for them---
About the Author
Marie Kazalia was born in Toledo, Ohio, but
has lived her adult life primarily on the West Coast and in San Francisco,
with the exception of 4 expatriate years in the Asian countries of Japan,
India, and China. Marie has a BFA degree from California College of Arts
and Crafts. Marie Kazali’s book of poems entitled Erratic Sleep in a
Cold Hotel was published by Phony Lid Books (http://www.phonylid.com).
Marie Kazalia also has two mini-chapbooks published by and available from CC
Marimbo, PO Box 933, Berkeley, CA 94701-0933 entitled All-Purpose Tragedy
and Megalopolis. Marie’s new chapbook titles in 2004: Blue
Language, Disgusting Similarities, Big City Savvy, and Tales of the
Female Urban Monk of the 21st Century are available from the
author.
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August
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