Tuesday, August 2, 2011
ASTROSCENE: Pobodys Nerfect
Busy times here, seems like everybody's got a job to do and they're doing it well.
The Sun and Jupiter are still having an unofficial feud, but nobody can remember what it was about, or why everyone keeps finding mugs all over the place. Pluto Somehow made his way into the palace without anyone noticing, and has posted up in the basement and refuses to leave. Ceres tries unsuccessfully to chase him out with a broom, but he just stares at her like she's on crack and lights the thing on fire. Next time she comes back with a iron frying pan.
Venus is forced to pay the bill for her shopping excursion, which forces her to actually go out and get a JOB. After three minutes at the local taco/burger/coffee joint, she gets fired, sleeps with the manager and wins a nice sexual harassment lawsuit settlement negotiated by Saturn. The company goes bankrupt, and thousands lose their jobs. Way to go.
Psyche sits down with Pallas Athene for a exclusive look inside the palace life. Incredibly boring as it is, due to all the good parts being edited out, It makes Pallas' career as an hard-hitting journalist. Her first assignment: covering a fashion show for cats, put on by Vesta.
I know, you're shocked. Bear with me guys, we're just getting to the good part.
Mars hates everybody. He packs his bags and takes the midnight train going anywhere.
Vulcan makes a brilliant pitch at SaturnCorp about the amazing new product he just invented, inspired by Eros. He wins a contract and it goes into development immediately.
Neptune joins a monastic school. Chiron drags him out kicking and screaming.
Uranus fights for Free trade agreements in South America. This time, he swings Psyche onto his side, and she becomes the public face of his campaign.
Juno launches her own PR firm, after firmly erasing the memory of the last debacle from the people's collective consciousness. After a couple of misguided billboard designs, she nails it and becomes an overnight success.
Mercury is still AWOL, but there have been reports of a thin, distinguished man in a top hat from Argentina shouting belligerently at anyone he sees, and with an obsession for counting things in shop windows. No word yet on if this is the same guy.
Until we find him, I present to you his favorite song when he bails on us mortals. If we play it enough, he might just remember that we don't disappear when he does.