Moneypenny, Week 4, Part 1


I’m afraid I’ll have to be even more brief than usual, and you both know the reason why.


Here I am attempting to make up for my shortcomings by mentoring my darling boy in fitness. You can see I’ve recovered my hair. Many thanks to the both of you and your offspring for not taking too many pictures of me without it.


I begged Felix to stick mainly to the treadmill to avoid bulking himself up too much and spoiling his lithe, Adonis-like figure, but teen boys from Sixam have just as much testosterone as their human counterparts and sometimes they’ve just got to hit something!


And here’s the real blow of the week:  Corey and I got anxious to see what our grandchildren might look like, so we bought Arielle a closet and popped her into it to see if we might get a peek at her alien form. Turns out the form we were seeing every day for the past week . . . that was her alien form. It just happens to look nothing at all like an alien.


She’s still a lovely girl. 100% alien. Got the glow and everything, but she hasn’t got access to any alien skin tones or eye colors, and she can’t even wear the sixam space suit. We fixed her up as best we could to help her fit in with the rest of the club, but well . . .


One wants the best for one’s offspring, and I’m sure we’ll all agree that one glitch tends to lead to another. As much as I adore Arielle, I’m afraid she’s no longer the number one spousal candidate.


That title now belongs to Creepy Rhonda.


Felix got the basketball backboard to match the museum door behind it. Isn’t he clever?


My congratulations, Mary dear, to your daughter on scoring the handsome Heckings as housemates. Brent, the non-vampire-y one, hangs out in our neighborhood park often and does a lot of grilling.


A LOT of grilling. He even ran out of picnic table space and started leaving full plates of food on the ground. I expect he’ll have maxed cooking by the time he gets back round to Tatiana’s place. A pity no one else there eats.


Monday morning I sallied forth for my final day of work. I know I could have bribed the wishing well a time or two to promote me early, but after I heard the well had turned on you, my sweet Loelia, I decided to accept last week’s gift horse without asking to take any peeks at its dental records, if you know what I mean.


Felix took the day off school and spent it analyzing our fellow club members to see if any might serve as helpful housemates or future family members.


5:00 p.m. Promoted as promised.


5:05:  all grown up.


All grown up, indeed. Rhonda, I swear on my life, you treat him well or I will grind you into space dust.

I can’t face the rest. I’ll leave it to Felix to tell his own tale. I, myself, have got a date with a basketball hoop.



P.S. You’d better believe I’ll be there at the G&K for every last gossip session. Pour me a pint, I shan’t be late!

Dear Mum,


Now, look. You knew this was going to happen. You steer a young man away from something hard enough, you know very well he’ll steer himself right back to it as hard as he can. You brought this on yourself.


And by “this” I mean your charming, stunningly attractive, much beloved daughter-in-law. But more on that later. 😉


I think I’ve formed a rather crack team of housemates, if I do say so myself. There’s Rhonda, of course, and Jillian, who I thank you kindly for moving out so I could ask her to move in, and the fellow in the hat is good old Addison Su, logic mentor extraordinaire. As you can no doubt tell from his disguise, he’s got a fantastic sense of humor.


Here’s the house. A Felix Moneypenny original. I don’t think it has quite the flair of the one you built, Mum, but it does the job and also seems to announce fairly clearly, “Aliens live here. Don your tinfoil hats now,” which I think is an important quality.


Jillian set to work straight away on the garden with the plants I lifted from Sixam and your yard.


And we all of us got cracking on the rocket ship in the backyard.  If you peek off to the right in this picture, I think you’ll see something that should please you. We didn’t have room for a basketball court, but we did manage to fit in something equally silly and entertaining for club gatherings:  a rock-climbing wall! I can’t wait to see you and Dad up there. It’s going to be fantastic. Even better than dunking, I promise you.


All right, then. Think happy thoughts. Deep breaths. Rhonda and I . . .


are very much in love . . .


We are soulmates.


And we are having a baby.

There now. That wasn’t so bad, was it?


Incidentally, did you know she’s an alien?  (I’m joking! I’m joking!)

More later. I do love you, Mum. Give my best to Dad. I’ll be in touch soon.



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