KEPLER IX

John F. Miles a Prologue Continues

"Attention. Halo Miles. Report to the Mass Hall, Office B-14. Halo Miles. To the Mass Hall. B-14. That is all."

When's my cue, hey, when does the narration start? It's already started? Oh, it's doing it right now. No, no, no. You can leave it in. It might be funny, you never know. 

Hey, wait, why is Angel Cakes making goo-goo eyes at me?

"Ha-lo Miles! Get to it!"

"Sir?"

"Mass Hall, boy, B-14!"

Name: Angel C. Taggart
Age: No F-kin Clue- wait. 
F-ck. Seriously? 
I can't curse, like, at all? 
That's bullsh-t. We'll see. 
Height: 5'8
Species: Hytellion, Male
Weakness: His Hytellion Boyfriend

"Yes, Angel Taggert, Sir!"

Why does A Cakes always get down my throat, like I'm the one f-cking his wife, Lucy, five nights a week? What he really needs to check in on is her therapy sesions with Dr. Roughenoff. Better yet, comes to think of it, maybe I should check in on the dears myself. Me-ow. I'll play doctor with her any-

"Get outta my sight, maggot!"

"Sir, yes, sir! However, I am not a faggot. Sir! I could see from my devilish, boyish looks, beautiful locks and perfect hips, how you might be misled. Sir."

Okay, I need to take this seriously and do the d-mn thing. Miles walked down the long hallway of similar doors that would one day be the walk to his tomb. He despised going to his boss's metal cage the same way he hated going to the circus as a child. It was the furthest place in the whole Intell and the highest point at that.

"Maybe this is about the paint spill last week or-or the time I knocked off Angel Taggert's mother's wig at the welcoming. Maybe they finally saw the back shower in the downstairs bathroom. Dude, what if they found out about that three boobed, racer babe that stole my cruiser for two days-that has to be what this is about."

"Who are you talking to, fur bag?"

"AaaAhh!" Um, Miles did not scream like a young, female, girl-child. Oh god. Oh Gees. I couldn't ever imagine having to wake up next to that smug, mud thing. What the hell is she? Oh, the shame. Oh, the drinking to live with the shame. She just looks like a blob of snot, like I don't get it.

"Get out of my face, Road Kill."

"H-e-l-l-o Gartruda, aren't you looking rather lovv-eww-ly today?"

"It's Angel Gertrude . It's not spelled with an A, it's an E you inbred backwards species.

"Yeah, yeah. No extra morning pastries today or did you end up needing an extra one for both a-- cheeks, tail lumps? Honestly, I can't even tell. What ARE you?"

"Ah-Ha, Ha, you sure are gay for someone that's getting re-ranked."

"Why is everyone calling me gay toda-Wait. Re-ranked?"

Ger-ah-truda loves me, I can tell she has this I want to fu-k you to death look in her eyes, snot bubbles, nose holes- Look I'm really not cut out for this, are you guys sure you need my testimony of the events prior? I just feel like someone else should narrtate so I can focus on the story. I feel like I keep getting distracted. Alright, I'll keep going. 

"So Gertata, is he in a good mood or should I reschedule this little meeting of ours because my sweet old pussy cat died last night and I really can't take any more disappointment right now?"