[scene: Washington DC. The current surgeon general, the major chaos goddess Metalia, is sitting in her office, looking very much like a dour Mary Worth. He office is decorated with pictures of her adopted children at various ages, as well as several arts and crafts. There are two congressmen sitting in her visitor chairs, smoking cigars and drinking scotch out of porcelain teacups.]
Congressman 1: You've got some good looking children, Dr. O'Sama.
Metalia: [without a trace of humor] Of course they are, why do you think I picked them? And please, drop the formality. Dr. Metalia will suffice.
[One of congressman notices one of the photos is facing the wall and turns it to reveal a fairly current snapshot of Kunzite.]
Congressman 2: Is this your oldest? He's a handsome boy.
Metalia: He is. He used to be the best of the lot. The oldest, the smartest, the best leader...or he was. Before he met some silly little blond at school and his brains turned to mush.
Congressman 1: [chuckles] Sounds like you don't approve of the little filly.
Metalia: I don't. In the past few months I've had more trouble out of the little golden haired brat than all the others put together, and that is saying something.
Congressman 2: Ah, well he's young. It may not last.
Metalia: Oh, it will last. Believe me. It will last. My son is the type who falls in love only once, and I regret to say, it's the same with the little troublemaker. [scowls at a picture of Beryl in a middleschool cap and gown] I'd cut them both off and adopt a couple more kids to replace them, but then I'd have to put the girl in charge, and I already know that kind of power would just go straight to her head.
Congressman 2: You'd better be carefully of they'll cut you out of their lives and you may never get to see your grandchildren.
Metalia: Grandchildren? From those two? [pours more scotch] That's never going to happen.
Congressman 2: Oh?
Metalia: They're both far too hedonist and self-serving to even entertain the idea of procreation.
Congressman 1: Hey. Never say never. Accidents happen, you know.
Metalia: Not those kinds of accidents.
Congressman 2: Oh?
Metalia: You've never met my son.
Congressman 2: Like I said. They're young. People change, especially at that age. Sooner or little, his little lady going to her the chiming of her biological clock and they two of them are going to want to shop for onsies and paint a nursery.
Metalia: [sips her teacup] Not in the cards. I can promise you that.