[i][b]—— Earth-F67X: Earth’s Extraterrestrial Embassy[/b][/i]

[i]“Mr. Vetzinga!”[/i] rushed up behind the pair a frumpy brown-green polkadot Fruggalo with a thick old Islip accent,[i] “Mr. Vetzinga, your ex-wife is on the horn.” [/i]

Their attention caught, she panted clouds of lavender smog and her monocular eyes twitched and adjusted to focus on both Oswaldo and Zourn. Then she lifted a grubby palm filled with reams of thin yellow triplication forms, [i]“Oh, and here’s your paperwork, Mr. Vetzinga. It is from the Bureau, you know the one. They always have to come first, the bastards, always whining about planetary security, never concerned with [b]our [/b]security if you know what I mean. Intake for the newbie to fill out.”[/i]

One lidless eye focuses its pupil on Zourn, and she says, [i]“Got a universal translator? Do you understand what we’re saying? Can you read what’s on the paper or do you require assistive accessibility support technology? Do you drink water? Do you need to use the can? Here, have a Pączki. They’re delicious. You’re too thin, a girl without curves will never catch a man. Just look at me, all curves, and I’m already on my ninth husband!”[/i]

She doesn’t pause to catch her breath, but continues, [i]“Speaking of husbands, your ex-wife is on the horn, Mr. Vetzinga, not the telephone, but the Horn of Africa. Says you have to come rescue her, part of your divorce agreement. She signed up for a time share and ended up in a Xanathan shipping container. What a ditz!”[/i]