“It’s my husband. He’ll go. He wants to go.”
The alien looked down the hall as though he’d rather be home nursing a beer than dealing with a disgruntled housewife at 4:00 p.m. on a Friday afternoon.
“Please.” She tried not to sound desperate. “He’s young and healthy. College degree, business administration.” She thought that last might not help. “With a math minor.”
Rated PG. Contains some sexual innuendo, relationship issues, and unpleasant cheese odors.