We see a large man roaming in a hallway. He looks down at a piece of paper and then up at the sign on a door. He opens the door and peeks in. He's very big. He takes up most of the doorway.
"Excuse me," he says to the receptionist, "Is this Human Resources?"
"Yes. May I help you Mr....?"
"Orion. And it's not 'Mr.' Just 'Orion."
The receptionist looks down at her booking screen.
"Ah, yes, Mr. Oron. Please head down to the room on the left. They're waiting for you."
He looks and begins toward the room. "Just 'Orion,'" he reminds her. "It's not hard. 'Mr. Oron.' 'Earthly twit," he mutters as he passes.
He enters. He turns to close the door behind him and his sword, accidentally cleans out an urn full of flowers.
"Sorry," he offers.
"Oh it's no problem. Orion, my name is Juliet Herbert. I'm the head of Human Resources here at 'Celestial Management Corp.' And this is Morris."
Morris, a small, older man with a stop sign, an orange vest and a whistle stands and shakes Orion's hand.
"Hiya," he says.
Orion nods. He looks at Morris, and then Juliet. Juliet points to a chair and he sits, but not before adjusting the metal bits on his skirt and maneuvering his sword so he can be comfortable. She speaks;
"Orion, I know you're busy, so I won't take too long. We've decided to open up the night sky a little to more current symbols of the times. We don't have a lot of 'mighty hunters' walking the streets anymore as you may have noticed. But we do have 'crossing guards.'"
With that Morris stands up. He holds up his stop sign, and blows his whistle.
"That's me."
"Sit down Morris," she directs.
"Yes ma'am." He sits.
"So what we're going to do is to give you every other night off. Morris, here, will be the constellation on those nights. 'Kay?"
Orion's jaw drops, almost to his belt. He looks over at Morris who is avoiding Orion's gaze by polishing his whistle. He is stunned.
"Listen," Juliet says, "I know this is going to take some time for you to be comfortable with this. But what about all of those other things you wanted to do, before...before all of your stars explode? I have here in your file that you have always wanted to do some painting. Now's the time!"
"Yeah," Morris says. "Now's the time."
"Shut up Morris."
"Yes Juliet. Sorry. ...polish my sign."
"Orion, here is a card for a someone to help you through this change." She hands him the card. He looks at it. It reads:
'Mylar Quadraboob...Sky Therapy, Massage, and Tax Preparation.'
And then he looks at the picture. She is beautiful and, uhm, exceptionally well...outfitted.
"Quadraboob." He gasps. "Okay! When can Morris start? How about tonight? I need to see this...helpful person."
Juliet smiles, as if she is expecting the reaction. She moves a paper toward Orion and has him sign. Orion rises and heads for the door.
"Wait just a second," Juliet calls. "The belt. You will have to share the belt."
Orion looks down and undoes the strap that holds the most famous three stars in the night sky. He hands it to Morris.
"Okay. Thanks. Wow, all this time off....I really need a massage, and, uhm, I have so many childhood issues...and I haven't filed my taxes for 1.5 million years...I have to go find..." And he is gone.
Juliet helps Morris into the belt. She has to wrap it around his waist twice but it still works. She looks at her watch and then at Morris.
"Okay. Morris, Crossing Guard Constellation? Get to work."
"Yes ma'am!" He salutes and blows his whistle.
"Moriss don't do that."
"Yes ma'am. Sorry ma'am." He bows, awkwardly and backs out of the room. Juliet calls after him;
"Morris?"
"Yes?" he calls back.
"Do up your fly." She hears a gasp, then an "Owwww." And then the sound of feet running out the door.
We hear a buzzer sound and then a voice. "Juliet, your next appointment is here. A Mr.....'Man-in-the-moon.'"
"Send him in."
So tonight, when you look up at the night sky, look closely. If you see a stop sign and a whistle, you'll know it's Morris. And Orion? He's probably off getting some much needed....help. As far as the moon is concerned, we'll have to wait and see. Keep your eye on it. Maybe you'll figure it out on your own."
- Suzanne Crone