Emperor Erroneous


LOBO
-Predator Press

"Well congratulations," says says Gina, looking up from her newspaper.

The idea of a Google employee reading a newspaper always cracks me up.

"For what?"  In a bathrobe, I'm just trying to get an iced coffee.

"Wendy told us you proposed to her."

Goddamit I need to get my own refrigerator upstairs.

Wincing and scratching my eyebrow, I reply "We had a conversation about getting married.  It was purely academic I thought."

I've been awake eight seconds, and I'm already in a death roll.

"We were all surprised too," she shrugged.

"I hate marriage," I explain, holding my head.  "I give up my job, friends, family, home, pets, car, sex, and all worldly possessions that don't fit in a backpack."  I surmise.  "And there is way too much yelling."

"You're exaggerating" she says.  "You've been dating her for, like, five years.  She definitely loves you."

"Wendy is the first person I've dated since the divorce," I admit.  "Do I want her to turn into a vile screaming jealous lying hypocrite adulterous racist psycho-shrew proliferating computer malware already?  No.  I think we are doing just fine as we are."

I twist the coffee cap off with a satisfying "pop" sound.

"I actually kinda like her," I elaborate.  "Why rush it?"

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