Please place tongue in cheek ... NOW!
WARNING! WARNING! This story contains graphic stereotypes
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: While transcribing 'Mrs M's' account, I had the Universal Translator set on British English.
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I would never of thought I'd end up in the middle of space with a lot of aliens. It just goes to show: you never know what's round the corner.
It all started when my youngest -- well he's grown up and married with kids of his own, but he'll always be my baby -- told me about this notice he had seen: 'Wanted: Domestic Engineers'.
"It'll just suit you, Mum," he said.
Bless him, he knows how much I liked me job. That's technology for you: it's all done by robots now. Not in my house it isn't though. I still take a pride in my work. And as it turned out, it was lucky I'd kept me hand in, so to speak.
Well, I went down the employment place, and there was hundreds of us all queuing up. They whittled it down to ten and then they told us more about the job.
It all seemed a bit funny, and, when I told my boy, he said he'd come along with me to the final interview.
It was this alien ship what was going through our space and wanted a clean ... a domestic engineer.
"The situation is temporary: for three months; then you'd be given free passage back here ... first class of course."
Of course.
My boy picked up on it straight away. "If these aliens is so advanced, what do they want a cleaner for? Why don't their robots do it?"
Well, it turned out that this ship was lost and running low on everything and they was trying to save energy any way they could. That included cleaning.
I asked about me wages and hours, and it seemed all right to me, but my boy wasn't convinced.
"I dunno, Mum," he said. "You hear about these women getting abducted."
I had to laugh: I'm well past me sell-by-date. Not that I hadn't turned a few heads in me time, mind.
Then he said "You've never been further than the end of the road."
That's what did it really. Him saying that. They say opportunity only knocks once. This'd make them sit up and take notice down the club.
"Would you like to meet the Captain?" the bloke behind the desk said.
I'd never seen aliens before. Well, only the ones from nearby planets, and they don't really count as aliens; know what I mean? I come over a bit funny when I saw them. All that smooth skin. And fur growing out of the top of their heads (and other places, I found out later). Still, I liked the idea of working for a woman, so I said I'd do it.
As I said, I'd never seen real aliens before, but I take people as I find them, and they weren't so different from us, when you got past their funny looks.
They were nice enough, most of them. Well that Mr Tuvok gave me the creeps. Always sitting in the dark when you went in. "Kindly endeavour to complete your duties as swiftly as possible," he'd say, looking at me like I was something he'd stepped in.
And that blonde hussy: "This method is inefficient. I will not comply."
Suit yourself, I thought. And you needn't go moaning to the Captain when your bed's not made. If any of my girls had gone prancing around in a get-up like that, they wouldn't have sat down for a week when my old man (rest his soul) had finished with them.
I'm not one to gossip, but you can't help seeing things in my job. I'd get to know who was sweet on who. Little things, like finding someone's smalls where they'd no right to be.
And it's funny what you'd learn about people. That Harry Kim, for instance. They all think he's so innocent, Mr Butter-wouldn't-melt. They wouldn't say that if they seen what I seen. What his poor mother would say, I don't know.
He'd hidden them away, but I found them. Not that I was looking, but I was giving his quarters a good going over. Someone needs to give him a good going over, if you ask me. But there, it's not my place. He's not the sort of young man Tom Paris should be hanging around with, though.
I've got a bit of a soft spot for Tom. He reminds me of my youngest.
"Hi there, Mrs M, how're you doing?" he says, whenever he sees me. Mrs M. It's short for Mrs Mopp.
"It's from Earth's twentieth century, Mrs M." he told me. "Ah, the twentieth century! That was the time to live."
Yes, well, maybe it was and maybe it wasn't. There'd be plenty of work for me from what I could tell, but it wouldn't suit Tom. I'd like to see how he'd manage without his replicators and holodecks and whatnots.
No, I think he knows when he's well off. He wouldn't have his B'Elanna in the twentieth century. B'Elanna, that's his young lady. I didn't take to her at first, but her bark's worse than her bite.
As I said, you see a lot in my job. The Captain, now. Nice lady. One of them Career Women. Works too hard, and too thin, but there, you can't tell them, can you?
See, I was doing out her quarters one morning. I'd got a bit ahead of meself so I was giving it a special polish. There were these PADD things lying on the desk, and I had a quick look to see if it was something I could clear away. Gets very uppity if you mess about with her desk, she does. I picked up the top one. 'My Dashing Devore, by Jane Street', it said.
It looked a bit like one of them books Neelix reads. Lovely they are, but I wouldn't've thought they were her cup of tea. Anway, she came in at that moment, so I didn't get a chance to read any more.
Course, I knew all about the Devore. We weren't none of us about to forget them in a hurry. That was the only time I'd been sorry I'd taken the job. I didn't much fancy the idea of a relocation camp.
One of them had stayed on the ship for a bit. Said he was defecting. They all thought that she fancied him. Well, I knew for a fact that she did, because I seen them together, see.
It wasn't my day for doing the shuttlebays, but I'd noticed there was a bit of dust building up. I can't abide dust in my corners, so I was in there giving everything a seeing-to when they came in, her and him. I didn't like to show meself, what with her having a face like a wet weekend, so I kept on polishing the Delta Flyer and minding me own business.
I couldn't hear what they was saying, but suddenly he bends down and plants this kiss straight on her lips.
"Oh-ho, you're for it now, mate," I said to meself. I thought she'd wallop him one for sure, but instead she grabs him and kisses him back like she was going to swallow him.
That was a turn-up and no mistake. I'd always thought she was a bit sweet on Chakotay, and I felt a bit sorry for the Chakman (that's what Tom calls him behind his back).
Still, it all ended in tears. Well, I could've told her he was up to no good. He had shifty eyes. Bit like this bloke lived down our street. He married this girl, but it turned out he was already married. Then we heard he'd been caught swindling his boss. The last I knew they was all pressing charges.
I thought I'd like to read that book, but when I went to download it, it wasn't there, and there was no Jane Street neither. Bit of a mystery really.
Anyway, I haven't got all day. I've got the beds to make, and they're having a bit of a do tonight. I've promised some of my homemade cakes. Tom loves my baking.
END
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Mrs Mopp will return in A Hot Date [PG-13]
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