Here came Hans Koblenz and Marguerita Semolina down the hall, as I rolled my cart toward Pathology to check the radiation levels on some prostate seeds. Marguerita looked fit and healthy in her blue culottes and chest binder. Hans wore his competition squash outfit; a tight jet black cotton and spandex twill with rising sun, reddish clouds and jagged thunderbolt. Stunning. Marguerita was bouncing a small coppery ball.
“Thanks for the game, Margs” said Hans. “I have to talk to Justin.”
“Great game, Hans” replied Marguerita. “Hope you kick ass in the tourney. Hi Justin. Bye Justin.” And off she went.
“Justin. Just the guy I wanted to see” started Hans, “we’re going to be sexing the mice tomorrow, at 9, can you be there? There’s a few things we should talk about before the injections.”
“Sure, no problem. How could I not be there? You guys bought me, fair and square. Hey, do you play squash with Marguerita? Is she any good?”
“Oh, she kicks ass. I like to play her before a tournament to warm up. She’s relentless. She has a squash ball made up to look like a penny, and you know how that girl loves her pennies.”
“But you win, right? You’ve gotta be ten years younger.”
“Let’s not talk about it” he laughed. “I gotta go change and get back to work. See you at 9 in the Annexation Room ok?”
“I’ll be there” I sang, in a Michael Jackson falsetto. Hans laughed and hustled off. I continued to Pathology.
Shocked in the Suburbs 