Frank Forbes hurried down the stairs with his briefcase, glancing quickly at his watch as he went. He was late and if he didn't hurry he would receive another lecture from his boss. There was a meeting at the office that he couldn't afford to miss.

It was a particularly important meeting, having to do with a prototype invention. Since his boss had several benefactors funding the project it was vital to keep those Very Important People up-to-date about what was going on. That way, they could all rest assured that their money was not being wasted.

In his rush, Frank stumbled over the last step of the staircase and nearly fell. He caught himself by clutching the railing, but his briefcase tumbled before him and burst open. It's contents spilled all over the floor as if it had puked explosively.

Frank cursed under his breath. "I don't have time for this," he muttered as he stooped down and began to snatch up the papers. This little accident frustrated him especially because he'd gone through great pains to organize everything for the meeting. Now he simply thrust the papers into the briefcase haphazardly; he did not have time to sort them out at present.

Within a minute or two he had the briefcase shut and latched. He then made a dash toward the door only to catch his foot on the carpet. This resulted in him falling flat on his face. This time the briefcase didn't fly open, but it somehow ended up flying through the air and landing in the middle of his back, nearly knocking the breath out of him.

He grunted and pushed himself up, smoothing the freshly formed creases out of his business suit. He could tell that this was simply not his day.

Then he found out that it could only get worse….

"FRANK!"

He grimaced at the all-too-familiar bellow. That screechy voice set his teeth on edge the same way a Banshee from a horror movie would. "Yes, Dear?" he called back as he picked himself up off the floor.

She walked into the room, hands on hips. Her hair was in curlers and she was clad in a simple bathrobe. Obviously she had just come out of the shower, judging from the dampness of her hair and the absence of makeup.

Frank grimaced. Without makeup she had no face whatsoever, as if she were a corpse risen from the local graveyard. Her naturally pale skin made her look even more death-like. The bathrobe was short enough to reveal her freshly shaved legs, though Frank wasn't sure if they looked better with or without the ape-like hair. Either way, she was bull-legged and not much could disguise it.

"What is it, Marge?" he snapped as he yanked his briefcase off the floor. "I'm late for work!" He tucked the case under his arm.

Marge twirled her toothbrush in hand. Toothpaste oozed from the corners of her lips as she spoke, making it obvious she hadn't rinsed her mouth properly. "We need groceries for the kids tonight, so don't forget to stop by the store on the way home."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Like I would forget to do that when we're just about out of everything!" He thrust the door open. "Now if you don't mind, I'm late for work!" He stepped out and slammed the door shut behind him.

Marge placed a fist on her hip and stuck her toothbrush back in her mouth. She glanced skyward and stroked her gums with its gentle bristles as she mentally counted to five.

Just as she reached Five, the door opened again and Frank came back inside, glaring at her. "Wait just a minute," he said. "What guests? If you're having another one of your high-society gatherings in the house tonight-"

Marge yanked the toothbrush out of her mouth with an almost audible pop. She swallowed the excess toothpaste. "No," she interjected in that you are stupid kind of tone she had. "I always tell you in advance when I'm having one of my parties."

"Yeah, because you never want me around when you're snobby rich friends are here."

"Even if you were invited, you would never remember to show up anyway," Marge retorted. "You basically live at the company office, and even when you're home you keep yourself locked up in your private home office."

"That's where I work, Marge. You know, it brings in the money, so that we can afford this fancy house and all of your expensive furs and jewelry."

"That is the only thing your damn computer is good for. Otherwise…"

"You wouldn't have married me, and your classy friends wouldn't even be your friends." Frank rolled his eyes. "I get it."

"That's a smart boy." Marge patted him on the shoulder. "At least you've got some sense in how society works."

"Only problem is that I married a fat cow," Frank stated, folding his arms. It was still a mystery to him what happened to her. During their high school years she had been one of the most gorgeous girls in school; not particularly athletic, nor was she good at anything special, but she could turn the head of any boy who'd gone through puberty. Frank, who had been the scrawny computer geek at the time, had considered himself extremely lucky to end up with her on his arm at the prom.

They both married soon after they turned eighteen, and that was when everything began to go downhill. The gorgeous hot chick somehow morphed into an ugly hag as Frank himself filled out and became more muscular. He became the handsome young man whom the ladies drooled over while Marge became more and more hideous.

Now, after almost twenty-two years of marriage, he couldn't help but wonder what he had ever seen in her. Had he been that blind and stupid back when he was a teenager? Perhaps so, but at least he had his work which gave him fulfillment and satisfaction.

Marge enjoyed spending a hefty portion of his hard-earned money, but Frank never wanted much because he had most of what he needed. He could do what he loved and what he was best at, plus his job and technical/programming skills permitted him access to the latest and greatest computer hardware and equipment.

At times… she could even be nice to him. Especially since she knew he was her source of unlimited cash for her shopping sprees, and sometimes she would do special favors for him when he showered her with expensive perfumes, luxurious fur coats and sparkling jewelry.

He simply had to put up with the nagging attitude, and the dog-faced features…

"I'm probably the only woman on God's green Earth who could put up with you," Marge retorted with a cool smirk. "You were married to your computer long before you ever laid eyes on me. You simply wanted a pretty face to spice up your home and make you feel like you were something."

The cruel smile on her face faded, quickly replaced by the look that always made Frank shudder inwardly. Her icy eyes became unveiled as they bored into his, revealing her true feelings. "My dear Frank," she hissed, "you are lucky to have me and you don't even realize it."

"Yeah, I'm lucky," Frank said. "I'm lucky because, otherwise, I wouldn't know what else to do with all the money I'm making. And we desperately need professional spenders to help boost the American economy." He smirked in his sarcasm.

Marge opened her mouth and quickly closed it. She scowled and stuck out her lower lip like a five-year-old. "Don't be late at the office," she repeated. She turned to leave, her fat body moving like a lumbering ox. "We have guests coming tonight."

That was when Frank remembered what they'd been talking about. He frowned. "What guests?" he asked, and frantically glanced at his watch again. He clenched his teeth in frustration. This was why he hated this woman so much, as much as he loved her (or was used to her, at least). She often made him late for work and she would also say things that made him angry, then she would distract him from the subject at hand until they finally got back to it.

"Don't you remember? Your brother's kids are coming here tonight," Marge answered with a shrug. She turned back to face him and narrowed her eyes. "You really forgot, didn't you?" She sucked in a deep breath and let it out as a huff. "It's a good thing we never had children of our own, Frank. Considering how absent-minded you get, you probably would have lost them at the grocery store."

"I've been busy with a lot of work lately, in case you haven't noticed," Frank stated defensively. "It's a very important project, for which they are paying me very well." He sighed. "I vaguely recall something about this… Dan and his wife are going on another of their business trips, right?"

"Glad to see you remember that, at least." Most of the excess toothpaste that Marge hadn't swallowed had oozed onto her face; she looked like a rabid she-dog now more than ever. "I'll have the cleaning lady straighten up the guest rooms when she arrives. She'll do almost anything for me, especially when I tip her well."

"Yeah. Well, I need to go to work. Have fun flinging my money around like horse manure." Frank stepped to the door and grabbed the handle firmly. "That's all you and your high-society ladies do, anyway. And you do it very well because you're all so full of crap!" On that last note, Frank hastily went out and slammed the door shut behind him.

He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, repeating this breathing exercise as he walked briskly toward his car. By the time he plunked himself into the driver's seat and deposited the briefcase into the passenger seat beside him, he felt much calmer. He was used to these arguments with his wife at this point and it was easy enough for him to push all thoughts of her out of his mind.

He needed to stay focused, after all. He could compartmentalize and concentrate fully on one thing; computers and programming. His ability to clear his mind and focus entirely on that (not to mention his genius and talent in those areas) were what made the big bucks in his household.

Hopefully, after the following meeting (which he was already twenty minutes late for) he would have the final approval, and the final pieces of tech and equipment, to begin the final phase of the experiment.

Ten minutes later he arrived at the large company building, pulling the car into one of the marked VIP parking spaces reserved for someone of his status and technical skill. At times, if he stopped to think about it, such a privilege might go to his head. For the most part though, one parking spot was just the same as any other and he didn't have time to dwell upon such things. He had work to do and he was already late.

He nearly forgot his briefcase as he shut off the engine and leaped out of the car. He remembered it at the last moment and hastily tucked it under his arm. As he hurried toward the front door he made a mental note to stop at the grocery store once this was over, hoping he wouldn't forget.

If he did forget, Marge would be sure he never heard the end of it.

Once he passed through the company building's pristine double glass doors, he gave a curt nod toward the receptionist as he passed her. The pretty blond woman often doubled as a security for the company head, though at the moment she hardly seemed busy. That human-sized Barbie-doll was currently filling her time with gum-chewing and nail-filing, though she did spare a glance to nod at him as he passed.

Yeah, the woman really knows how to multitask, Frank thought with a roll of his eyes as he headed down the hall. Right. The woman only works here because she's a babe. That and she sleeps with the head boss. Then again, what did he care? Everybody had to make their dough somehow. Perhaps it was a simple matter of using what you had. Frank had his brains and his skills. Maybe some poor souls only had their good looks and sexy body to get by in life.

Too bad Marge couldn't trade her fat old caboose for a new one… Ah, if only women could be more like cars. That would make the world a lot more fun. Then again, if a vehicle truly went bad there wasn't much you could do to make it look better. Not unless you were prepared to spend a fortune. Sometimes all you could do was put up with a fresh new paint job and try to ignore the dents and cracks…

Frank turned his full attention to his work as he hurried into the office where the meeting was taking place. Thankfully, he was spared the Evil Eye for being late because one of the important peeps required at the meeting was late as well. Apparently Ms. Trudge had barely arrived mere seconds before Frank himself stumbled through the door. She dismissed her tardiness, commenting on a malfunctioning traffic light and a flat tire, and took her seat.

The meeting lasted roughly an hour and a half. Everyone went over standard work procedures and reassured their financial benefactors that the company wasn't simply flushing their funding down the toilet.

Once everybody was satisfied that the money was being used the way it was supposed to be, and that everybody was doing their jobs by crossing every T and dotting almost every I, the meeting was dismissed.

Frank packed his stack of papers neatly in his briefcase again, tucking a few new documents he would need to pour over later underneath a stack of paperwork he would have to fill out or sign. If nothing else, he was contented by the fact that he could return his thought processes to the work he really preferred now; computers, programming, and tech.

Best of all, he had been informed that he might be able to take the company's experiment, their latest pride and joy, home with him tonight to work on. He smiled at the thought, pleased that he'd be able to continue his work in the comfort of his own office.

Every man had his sanctuary, after all. And when a man was married to a shrill, dog-faced woman like Marge, it was even better when that private place had locks.

He moseyed into one of the larger rooms within the complex, a room that had the company's mainframe. Only those with Level Six clearance or higher were permitted anywhere near the mainframe, since it was used strictly for business purposes and, sometimes, a few minor simulations or experiments.

Most of the high-level programming, simulations or experimental trials were performed on other, smaller, more powerful machines within the company. Nevertheless, the mainframe certainly had its uses… which apparently included game-playing.

The mainframe didn't have just one user, but several. It depended upon who was operating it that day or, in some cases, who had a little free time and wanted to goof around. Many games had been downloaded and played on that machine, even if technically they weren't supposed to use it for that purpose. But as long as the important work got done and people met their work quotas, the company heads seemed to turn a blind eye to it.

"Oh, hi there, Frank," Tanya Jarvis greeted him as he entered the room. She barely glanced up from whatever she was doing.

"Hello." Frank readjusted his briefcase under his arm, and peered at the screen. "Hard a work, or playing games?" He flashed a brief grin.

The corner of Tanya's mouth quirked. "No games today," she said. "I think Josh played a couple earlier, but I've got honest work to do."

"Meaning you'll play one later."

"Maybe."

Frank shook his head slightly. "So tell me something," he said conversationally, "is it true, what they say about this beast?" He patted the casing of the Mainframe.

"I don't know… what have they said?" Tanya asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, just that its got a mind of its own," Frank shrugged. "That sometimes when games are played…" He glanced back and forth briefly for dramatic pause. "Crazy things happen."

"Ah, the game glitches." Tanya shook her head and leaned back a bit in her seat. "Nobody really knows why that happens. Just that it's hard to win games on this system for some reason."

"I've heard that sometimes the game opponents will step outside their programming parameters," Frank pressed curiously. He wasn't sure why he was pressing the issue; perhaps he just wanted to know. Or he was trying to delay the inevitable doom of going home to Marge… and his brother's kids. Not that he had a problem with the kids really, but teenagers would be teenagers.

Tanya's shoulders rose and fell. "This system has always been a little funny at times. Some say it's haunted, others say the games have a mind of their own. All I know is that games aren't won very often."

"Maybe I'll try one sometime," Frank mused thoughtfully. "Well, I'll let you get back to work."

"Okie-dokie. Got any big plans tonight?" Tanya's hands began to clack against the keyboard again.

Frank grunted. "Yeah, work. And my niece and nephew are coming over."

"Hmm. You don't sound very enthusiastic," Tanya observed without looking up.

"I'm always up for working on a new prototype or experimental program-in this case, it's both," Frank told her. "It's the family stuff I'm not looking forward to."

"I already know all about how you feel about your wife," Tanya said with a roll of her eyes. "What's wrong with the kids?"

"Nothing."

"Then why do you sound so grumpy?"

"Because kids need a lot of attention. Or you need to keep a close eye on them to keep 'em out of trouble."

"I don't know, some kids are good at keeping themselves amused."

Frank sighed and shook his head. He muttered under his breath as he left the room, "Yeah, kids keeping to themselves… that's another problem with today's society. They practically have to raise themselves, and they turn to bad influences. Not that I have the time or the desire to baby-sit them, either…" The door closed, cutting off his mumblings.