internetdisease: 2010/12

Right now I'm standing 10 meters away from her. She is huge. Her breasts are huge too. She is in her mid-forties, with long reddish dyed hair and horn-rimmed glasses resting on the tip her nose. I start wondering if it is her. Is she Mother? Everything that surrounds her proves it. Although there is enough space in this room to fit more desks, her colleagues at the Income Department are all tightly cornered. And they all seem happy about this. Everybody is happy that she is happy. She is definitely Mother. And nobody fucks with Mother. Nobody.

"What do you want?" she asks the next civilian in line with a flat and loud voice, as if coming out of a severely damaged single-speaker radio, unleashing her threateningly bouncing breasts at him. The answer she receives from the poor soul is certainly not pleasing. Never is, never will be. It just makes her more nervous. "I can't help you sir. Go to the Tax refund department, first floor. Next!". And that is the sad epilogue of their short conversation. Another one dared to fight her and got torn to pieces. She is definitely Mother. And I'm about to face her soon.

I'm not inside the building of the Internal Revenue Service anymore. I'm inside the Nostromo, a commercial towing spaceship heading to Earth. I am Officer Ripley and my mission is to save my ship from the ruthless and tax-payer devouring Mother. And there she is, Mother herself, standing gloriously a few meters away. The infamous monster that's been tearing civilians apart for ages. On her desk, lay hundreds of files, documents, forms, her precious eggs, countless tokens of a corrupt system, ready to reproduce themselves and bring more pain and endless torment to thousands of tax-payers.

I'm sitting on a chair, watching quietly her every move, making myself as transparent as possible. I'm soon to become her victim, rejected, denied of any assistance, squashed. I'm not too eager to confront her yet. But I don't take my eyes off her. Every move she makes, every word she shouts feeds my knowledge on her. Her weakness will soon be exposed.

"Next!" she yells. Now I am starting to sweat. It is me. I'm next and I'm definitely screwed. But since I'm Nostromo's only hope, I decide to take a deep breath and stand up to fight her. As I start to move slowly towards her, she becomes enormous in my fearful sight. Her breasts now look like soft neighbouring planets rotating in a weird solar system. Her eyes examine me as the hungry lion examines the baby gnu that just drew away from the herd.

"What do you want?" Mother shouts.

"I'm here to collect my tax refund" I answer in a gentle, low tone.

This is it. I am now officially a threat to her, to her eggs, to the system. Her guards start surrounding me. The battle is now in full play. Papers start to fly out of her desk like blades, computer keys are tapped violently and rhythmically as war drums. I am now helpless. I am the baby gnu.

"Why didn't you come earlier to collect your refund? We can't help you now sir, it's too late. Next!" Mother roars.

"Madame, it is very important for me to collect this refund. I have a newborn son" I reply.

And suddenly time stops. Earth pauses. Even her breasts stop bouncing. The guards lay back surprised, looking at Mother. Then she nods at them to go back to their desks.

"A newborn son?" she softly repeats.

"I'll help you out sir. Please give me your VAT number and I'll see what I can do"

This isn't happening. I'm living a dream. The battle is over and I'm still in one piece. And there against me stands a smiling monster, ready to serve me instead of devouring me. No, it can't be true. What is happening?

Then I look back at her office. Of course, the eggs! Nothing is more precious than the eggs! And only an egg can beat a mother!

I am Warrant Officer Ripley and my newborn egg beat the system.
Nostromo is now safe.

No Mother fucks with me.