LXVIII. fuck i clucked.
- aliya anand
- Oct 2
- 2 min read
The Little Martian contemplates.
He taps his sandaled foot against his swiveling high chair, irritating all the cool, creatively dynamic, bespectacled designers around him.
Should I stay or should I go nowwwwwww, he panic-sings.if I go, there will be troubleee…He glances around.If I stay, there will be doubleeeeee
He mutters the refrain again, like a helicopter on crack.
BLAM!
A hand slams down on his desk.
“How many shots of espresso have you downed this morning?”
“One,” he replies, petulant.
“LM.”
“Okay, two. But the first one was watered down!”
“It’s only 10 a.m.”
“You’re only 10 a.m.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“You don’t even make sense.”
“What’s on your mind, LM? You’re acting odder than usual.”
He bites his lip in concentration, staring out the window.
“You see, I have this little fork-in-the-road thingamajig happening.”
“A fork in the road?”
“A wee decision to make.”
“Okay…”
“One that could change the course of my life forever. And more importantly, change my everydays.”
“Your everydays?”
“My daily life, you know.”
“Okay.”
“I’d be leaving the agency.” He whispers, my melodramatic Martian Don Draper.
“Fabulous. It’s about time.”
“I’d be leaving… and I’d be joining another space crew.”
“…Okay.”
“A very small, very eclectic, very cool space crew.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“It does, yes, yes it does.”
He swallows.
“But I’m afraid.”
“In a good way or a bad way?”
“In a I-migh-shit-my-windcheater-way.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Jump!”
“Good for you!”
“Or stay—maybe I’ll stay. It’s safer here…”
I roll my eyes at the Martian.
“You’re totally chickening out, aren’t you?”
“Cluck,” he replies, dry as a sandstorm on Mars in June.
“You know… you’re not supposed to let fear make your decisions for you, LM. You gotta take the plunge! Be adventurous! See all that life has to offer!”
“Just like you do?” He snorts.
I purse my lips as I fill out my timesheet.
“I don’t identify as an intergalactic space cruiser, LM. I’m just me. Just a chick. Trying to sort her shit out.”
“BS.”
I don’t dignify him with a retort.
“You should jump, LM. You might regret it if you don’t.”
“I might regret it if I do.”
“Would Luke Skywalker have become Darth Vader’s dad if he hadn’t hopped onto that space jet?”
“I don’t think you’ve seen the movies…”
“The point is… you’ve got to take a chance!”
The Little Martian rubs his tired eyes with frustration.
“Can’t I just decide next year?”
I shrug.
That’s my plan as well.
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