Sara and Mort

A purple llama was the last creature; Sara expected to see as she stepped out of the teleportation booth. Who or what she expected to see is unclear, but it was not a llama with a sign around its neck reading “Welcome home Sara.” Sighing, she ambled to the llama and stroked its head.

I suppose, she thought, this is Mort’s idea of a joke. That man has absolutely no sense of humor, but I guess a purple llama is better then him standing half dressed among professional greeters. Taking hold of the animal’s pink bridle, she walked to the exit.

Stepping into the corridor, which led to the worker’s living quarters, she paused to look around. The llama nudged her, so she turned right toward the elevators that descended to the stables. At the elevators, she pressed the call button and waited.

“Where are you going, Sara,” came Mort’s voice from behind her.

“I’m taking your friend to the stables,” she said, as Mort kissed her on the cheek.

“You can’t,” he held out a plastic folder, “I have a license to keep him in our quarters.”

"Mort, we don't have room in our quarter!"

“There is now,” he grinded, “I got a promotion and moved us to larger quarters. There is room for a family of four plus two pets, I chose the purple llamas because purple is your favorite color.”

“All right,” she smiled and then kissed him, “lead me to our new apartment.”

Inside the apartment, she handed the llama’s bridle to Mort and sat down on the couch. On the coffee table, was a bowl of chocolate ice cream with a pickle sticking out of it. Why, she picked up a spoon and tasted the ice cream, can’t he simply ask me if I want to get pregnant instead of leaving hints sitting around.

“Mort,” she said as he came into the room and sit down beside her. “We have to talk.”

“Sara, if you don’t like the llamas I can return them. The breeder said we had until the first of next month to decide if we wanted to keep and breed them.”

“No, I think the llamas are an appropriate symbol of our marriage. It’s just that...” the doorbell ring. “That must be the inheritance I brought back from Earth. Would you let the porter in?”

“Yes,” Mort hurried to the door and opened it. He stood aside as a robot pushed in an antique steamer trunk. After the porter left, Sara took a key out of her pocket and tossed it to Mort. He opened the trunk, reached in and took out an old shoe. “What else did your Aunt Marie leave you?” He placed the shoe on the coffee table.

“She left me her entire collection of antique clothing and jewelry, with the stipulation that I pass the items to our oldest child.”

“You mean we can never sell these items.”

“No,” a wicked smile came across her face, “but we faired much better then her only son.”

“What do you mean?”

“She left cousin Rodger that money pit she lived in, with just enough income from a trust to pay the property taxes, but not the repair bills. She also made sure that he couldn’t sell it.”

“Are we going back to Earth on our next vacation, Sara?”

“Mort, if you want to spend your vacation on Earth you can. I’m going to put in for a transfer to the Mars colony, which means spending my next vacation looking for a farmstead there.”

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