Marla & Trumbull were smoking Cigars and sipping Bourbon. The Cigars were grown from fermented tobacco in leaves from a Green Acres farm, rolled and packaged by the bots of Mother’s piece of Paradise. The Bourbon came from Mother’s Spirits, a Green Acres distillery. Mother already had a job, she ran companies to make pleasure for fun.
Marla blew out a smoke ring. “Who says Cigars are only for men? I’ve seen pictures of Cuban women rolling cigars while smoaking them.”
“I’ve seen them in person”, Trumbull said. Marla forgets how much her husband got around. “Do I want to know why?”, Marla asked. “It’s no secret. I wanted to see Cuba for myself. Happy people. Miserable Government. But they were all nice to me, even my minder invited me to dinner with his family.
“What’s the thing about you, Trumbull?”. “You don’t know?”. “I don’t mean THAT! I mean, why do you get around so much, husband?”
“I’ve had many a hypotheses, lovely Wife.”, she beamed at him. “I thought it was my good looks, rakish charm-“, earning a snort. “You don’t htink I’m handsome and charming?”. Another snort. “Many reasons occured to me, and I shot most of them down as self-flattering. It boiled down to knowing how things were about to play out and doing something about it. I saw a big rock coming and got 30,000 people to come up to the HomePlex ahead of schedule-” “Including me?”, Marla, eyes wide in astonishment. Trumbull looked at her for a moment, Marla was beautiful.
Marla asked, “Why did you invite me to join the family as a co-husband? Was it because I was another Oracle?” “It took 6 to get the egg-rolls.”. Another snort. Marla took a sip of the bourbon, watching the smoke from the tip of her cigar.
“Bringing you to the HomePlex was a calculation. You have a very handy talent”. “I know”, Marla said, and Trumbull said, “Not that kind of talent, I meant your NSA work. But taking you into my family? That was different. I felt something in your very special, very beautiful.”, Trumbull said.
“rakish charm”, Marla muttered. “Yeahhhhh”, said Trumbull.
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