Eloise had been lovely to him so far and in all actuality he had no reason not to trust her, other than the fact he was currently being driven back to the office in a limousine on bloody Mars.
It'd only been a few hours and he knew he was going to need much more time than that to get used to everything that was going on.
So caught up in his thoughts was he that Mike didn't notice the car had stopped until the driver opened the door and Eloise nudged him in the ribs.
“Oh, sorry,” he said apologetically as he quickly alighted the vehicle.
“That's OK,” she replied, leading the way towards the huge glass doors, above which the Mars Inc. logo was spelled out in big, Lego-like lettering.
“So what's on the agenda this afternoon?” he said as he followed at her heel.
“You have meetings all afternoon,” she said, “the first of which starts in half an hour, so you'd better get cleaned up.”
Bongo
As he sat at the head of what he thought was an unnecessarily large conference table, Mike fiddled with the pencil between his fingers. It had the Mars Inc. logo etched upon it, the same logo as that on the outside of the building only on a much smaller scale.
“I'm sorry, what?” he said, realising that the room had been silent for the better part of fifteen seconds. Glancing down the table, he saw those three individuals with whom he was in a meeting.
One was human. Mike knew that, because when he'd introduced himself he'd said, “hi, Mike. Good to finally meet you. Philip Philips, human.”
Of the other two, one was an alien female. Now that was a concept Mike was struggling to get his head around. Fair enough he was on Mars, and as of that very morning he was CEO of Mars Incorporated but the irrefutable fact that he was actually in a meeting with an actual alien female, an actual alien female from a whole other Galaxy... It gave him the kind of headache that he knew would require much more than a couple of Ibuprofen to get rid of.
The third and final person with whom Mike was in a meeting wasn't actually a person at all. He was an Irish Setter named Bongo.
Piece of Meat
“Woof,” said Bongo.
“No, not at all,” Mike replied. “I was appointed to this position for a reason. I don't see that my inexperience should hamper any effort to create a translation programme between human and canine languages.”
“Don't mind him,” Philip Philips said with a chuckle. “He got himself all wound up because,” he took a breath and uttered a word so guttural and impossibly difficult to pronounce, that Mike's brain didn't register what he said, “wouldn't let him hump her leg.”
The rest of the meeting went pretty quickly, and that pleased Mike greatly, not least because he was certain Bongo was eyeing him like a piece of meat.
The delegates left and Mike saw them off, shaking each by hand or paw.
As he took her hand he attempted to pronounce the alien female's name, and she laughed sweetly.
“If it makes it easier, you can call me Rose.”
“Thank you, Rose,” he said, smiling gratefully.
It wasn't until he was alone in the conference room, his finger upon the light switch ready to cast darkness upon the room, that he realised he'd known exactly what Bongo had said.
“Oh,” he said, and shrugged.
Daft Bugger
Even though he had a couple more meetings that afternoon, Mike found he was unable to get the first one out of his head. Rose and Philip Philips he had no issue with, even though a small part of his brain was yelling at him, screaming, “oi! What the bloody hell? You realise that bloody Rose is a bloody alien, right? You bloody daft bugger!”
But the sentient Irish Setter, Bongo, whom Mike had understood as clearly as if he'd been talking to his bank over the telephone? That is to say that despite the unfamiliar accent and the near-irresistible urge to ask about the weather in New Delhi, he'd easily got the gist of Bongo's point. It gave him the willies.
Neither of his other meetings were anywhere near as interesting so Mike did what he did when his spacecraft was making the run to break orbit and went to his happy place. In fact, his mind was halfway through a particularly enjoyable mission playing Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, by the time he realised the conference room was completely empty and it was four forty-five.
Now That is a Tasty Burger
“Your car's waiting out front,” said Eloise as Mike passed her in the lobby. “Don't forget loo roll and cheese. I don't want an earful from Sandra.”
“Erm... Yeah, thanks.” Mike wasn't sure how Eloise knew Sandra, just as he still wasn't sure how his wife and kids had wound up on Mars, seemingly before he had.
With those concerns and many more fighting for supremacy inside his head Mike made his way outside. Even though it was not yet five pm the Sun was beginning to set. He thought that a little odd until he remembered that he was on Mars and when he got right down to the nitty gritty, he had no idea what he was talking about.
The driver held the door until he was inside, then seconds later he was in the driver's seat.
“Gonna' swing by the shops, boss,” he said. “Local shops, for local people.”
“Thanks, erm...” Mike stammered, because of course he'd no idea what his driver was called. There was something about his voice though, that was very familiar.
“Samuel,” the driver replied. “Samuel L. Jackson, but you can call me Sammy J, boss.”
“OK then, Sammy J,” said a slightly flustered Mike, although inside he was yelling, “holy crap, Sammy J's my bloody driver!” He did his best to hide the waver in his voice, no mean feat especially considering he was dying to say, “now, that is a tasty burger,” or any other of Samuel L. Jackson's epically awesome lines. “To the shops!”
Double Gloucester
Mike slid along the seat and clambered from the limousine. They'd been driving for a little over an hour, and it was well and truly night. Still, the air was fresh, the car park didn't appear to be too busy and he'd had a little doze on the way. All in all, Mike was feeling pretty good about things.
He walked quickly to the store and was soon inside. It hadn't looked much from the exterior, but it was bloody big inside. In fact it took Mike back a little, and he stepped outside once again, just to check that he wasn't going mad.
Then, with a shrug, he entered.
It didn't take long before he found what he was looking for, loo roll and cheese, and then he was making his way to the check-out. It wasn't until he was required to pay for his Andrex and Double Gloucester, that Mike realised he had no way of paying for the goods.
He was just about to say something to that effect when someone shouted his name from across the other side of the store. He turned around and almost suffered a heart attack, such was the shock he experienced when he saw someone he'd not seen for fifteen years.
“Darren?”
“How you goin', buddy?”
“Yeah, erm... pretty good, y'know...” Darren and Mike had been best friends for much of their youth, but had lost contact when they'd attended different universities.
“Fancy a beer?”
A Back Garden With a View
However confused he had been, Mike was now much more so. He was in the back of the limousine as Samuel L. Jackson drove him home having decided to pass on the beer with Darren.
So, he thought, Sandra and the kids are here. So's Darren, and my driver is bloody Samuel L. Jackson.
He went over time and time again, hoping that it would all start to make sense at some point.
It didn't.
“We're here, Sir,” said Sammy J over an intercom that Mike hadn't known existed. “Six am?”
“Yeah, erm...” Mike replied as he opened the door. “Thanks.”
The car pulled off and Mike walked slowly up the drive to what, he assumed, was his house. It was a safe assumption, especially considering that as he looked around, he could see no other house. In fact t
he house towards which he walked was the only sign of civilisation of any kind.
Wind tugged at his suit and brought with it one of Mike's favourite smells – the sea.
Rather than going straight inside, he went around to the back of the house and down a narrow path lit by those solar-powered lights that stick in the ground. Once at the end of the path, Mike stared in awe at the sight.
The house was built atop a cliff and the back garden, such as it was, ran to the very edge.
Waves crashed far below, and he breathed deeply of the air as he looked out to the horizon where the deep murky blue of the sea met the star-pecked black of the sky.
“Nice,” he said, and turned to go inside.
The Shoe Rack
He walked through the door and was greeted by dinner-type smells. Having taken a few seconds to get his bearings, Mike realised that although the exterior of the house was somewhat unfamiliar, mostly because to the best of his knowledge the three-bed semi he and his family owned in Buxton wasn't situated atop a cliff overlooking any kind of ocean, the interior was exactly the same.
He hung his jacket upon the hook behind the door, just as he always did. He shooed the cat away because, as per usual, it'd opted to sleep beneath the shoe rack, right where Mike always put his shoes.
“Bloody cat,” he said under his breath. “Hang on a bloody minute... Since when was Snowy, black?”
Thinking back to the message he'd received upon the karaoke machine, Mike hurried after Snowy as she made her way through to kitchen, and hopped up onto the counter. Mike refrained from doing the same. Instead he did what he always did when he got home, wrapped his arms around Sandra and kissed her.
“Good day at work, love?”
“Erm... yeah, interesting,” he replied.
“Well we've got an hour and a half to eat and... you know, before the girls need picking up,” she said with a smirk.
“Right then, we should get dinner out of the way,” Mike said. At that moment Snowy purred and Mike looked around to see that Snowy was white once again, rather than the black she'd been moments before. “Hmm.”
Well Now... Ain't That the Question?
The girls were home and safely tucked away in bed but it was almost midnight before Mike and Sandra headed upstairs. They'd spent a quiet evening on the sofa in front of the TV, not that Mike had been watching.
As they lay there on opposite sides of the bed, both in their pyjamas, Mike prepared a question in his mind. He wanted to know what the bloody hell was going on but figured that if he wanted an answer, he should probably phrase the question a little better.
Sandra beat him to it though, which saved him the trouble.
“I expect you're wondering what the bloody hell is going on, right love?” As she spoke she rolled towards him and placed her left hand gently upon his chest.
“Well, I'd be lying if I said no,” he replied with a chuckle.
So she told him about the email she'd received months before his mission and the seven subsequent emails because she thought that someone was buggering her about. When she finally caved and called the number on the email, she found herself through to the NASA research department and they'd told her all about Mars Incorporated. They'd also suggested that she and the rest of the family and a few friends move to Mars as a sort of... surprise, for him.
“Well that explains Darren being here then.”
“Yes,” said Sandra, “and Joyce, too. You should go for drinks with Darren after work tomorrow so she and I can have a girl's night.”
Soapy Shenanigans
Much to his surprise Mike awoke the next morning having had the best night's sleep he'd ever had. He opened his eyes a crack and glanced at the clock atop his bedside table. Five am.
Morning sunlight glared through the gap in the curtains as Sandra rolled towards him.
“Morning, love,” she said, planting a kiss upon his lips.
“Morning,” he replied as at that very moment the radio alarm kicked in and blared 80s pop into his right ear. “Right then, guess that's shower time.”
“The girls won't be up for an hour,” said Sandra, trailing her fingertips over Mike's pyjama covered torso. “Fancy some company?”
He couldn't remember the last time he and Sandra had shared a shower and of course he jumped at the opportunity to engage in whatever soapy shenanigans she had in mind.
“Do you even have to ask?” he asked, smiling. “I'll get the water running.”
Up like a shot and into the bathroom, Mike marvelled at the water pressure for no sooner had he flicked the switch did a torrent of hot water cascade from the shower head.
He shut the door but left it unlocked, quickly stripped out of his pyjamas and hopped into the shower cubicle.
The water hit him, caressing his body in the way that only a hot shower can.
“Damn,” he murmured, hearing the click of the door as Sandra entered the already steam-filled room. Moments later she was in the cubicle behind him, soap in hand.
“That's bloody good!”
Shovel, Mike?
Together, Mike and Sandra got dressed and ready for work. Sandra's job was running around after the kids, but that didn't mean she didn't want to look good doing it.
That was something that confused Mike as he watched his wife slip into a pair of figure hugging jeans. She'd never bothered too much about her appearance when they'd been living on Earth. That's not to say she'd not looked good, damn good...
Damn, he thought. Digging myself a right bloody hole here.
They shared a quiet coffee and an embrace at the door, and Mike was almost to the car.
“Don't forget,” Sandra shouted from the door, “you're out for a drink with Darren tonight.”
He waved a thank you and clambered into the back of the limousine.
“Morning, boss.”
“Morning,” said Mike, realising something was amiss straight away. “What happened to Sammy J?”
“Sorry, boss?” the driver asked. He was quite clearly not Samuel L. Jackson. Apart from anything else he was white and had pimples.
“Don't, erm... Don't worry about it,” replied Mike, thinking it best not to say any more, at least not out loud.
An Amazon in the Office
Mike made it up to his office without being seen, or at least that's what he thought for no sooner had he closed the door behind him was there a knock upon it.
He took a few deep breaths and headed over towards his desk, and said, “come in,” as he took a seat behind it.
The door opened gently and in strode what was, Mike thought, the most striking woman he'd ever laid his eyes on. Whilst she was attractive it wasn't her looks that made her so and besides, Sandra was far sexier.
She stood somewhere north of six feet tall and had the largest breasts Mike had ever seen. To top it off she had platinum blonde hair and wore a dress and heels that would have looked out of place on a stripper.
“Can I help you?” he asked, scooting his rather comfortable office chair further beneath the desk as she strode over.
“Darren Fish sent me, Mr Watts,” she said in an incredibly deep and bass-filled tone, “to ensure you're still joining him for a beer later, as arranged.”
“Erm, yes...” Mike replied, doing his best to maintain eye contact with the Amazon. At that moment a thought struck him. It'd never been arranged that he was going for a beer with Darren. He hadn't spoken to his friend since the day before and yet Sandra had reminded him about the arrangement, too.
“I'll tell your driver not to worry about taking you home then,” she said, turning to walk away and leaving Mike staring at her swaying buttocks. “Mr Fish has already arranged transport.”
Dark Chocolate Muffin
Mike stared at the door for several seconds after Darren's assistant had exited through it, then he picked up the telephone receiver and dialled Eloise's extension.
“I have a few questi
ons,” he replied in answer to her, “yes, Mr Watts.”
“I'll be through in five, if that's OK,” she said. “I'm just finishing this dark chocolate muffin.”
“Fine,” said Mike, and terminated the call.
True to her word, Eloise knocked upon the door and entered Mike's office five minutes later. At a glance, Mike could see no evidence of the muffin she'd been eating. Clearly it'd been so good she'd savoured every single crumb and he wondered where she'd acquired such a tasty, tantalising treat.
“What was it you wanted to ask, Mike?” she said, making her way over to the desk.
“What happened to Sammy J?”
“Your driver?” she replied, not missing a beat. “He was reassigned to the Mayor's office.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “Who was the leggy blonde?”
“Darren's PA,” she replied, again without hesitation. “She and I are good friends.”
“Darren and I are going out for drinks tonight. No plans were ever made though... it all came out of the blue.”
“I'm not sure I understand the question.”
“How can it be that plans were made yet my wife knows more than I do?”
“You're the CEO of Mars Incorporated,” Eloise said in reply. “You did know about the plans, you just don't know that you did.”
I Just Didn't Know It
“I did know about the planned beverages,” said Mike, resting back in his chair with his eyes closed. “I just don't know that I did?”
It didn't make any sense to him at all.
“I did know about the planned beverages,” Mike repeated. His eyes were still closed, and he realised that he was scratching the back of his head furiously. “I just don't know that I did?”
Mars Inc. Page 2