The first of the month was creeping up on their backs, and there were few things more threatening than the prospect of late fees and cut utilities. In the midst of many failed attempts at being frugal, Bee had dipped into her rent funds for one too many purchases.Â
     Perhaps she should have cut back on visits to the bakery, but honestly, it was much easier to give in to the aroma that place gave off than it was to rush down the block and pretend she hadnât smelled perfection rising in an oven. And of course there was her bad habit of spoiling Puppycat with things he did not need, and usually did not want in the first place.  He always griped about the cutesy wardrobe she brought home to him, but that was primarily because of his tarnished image rather than Beeâs irresponsible spending.Â
    Towards the end of the month she finally committed to cutting corners and clipping coupons, but the damage had already been done. Last minute penny pinching wouldnât bring back what had already been spent ( and eaten). They were due for temp job nevertheless, and a little adventure never hurt either.Â
    â Alright we just get this job done, and weâll have more than enough to pay rent! Maybe then I could get you that cute sweater I saw yesterday!â    Â
    <Your misaligned priorities are the reason weâre up this early on a Saturday morning. I donât need anymore clothes. Now letâs go.>
     Puppycat glances over their industry memo before pressing a paw against the signature line. Their living room fades around them, left behind it its proper dimension while its tenants vanish in a burst pastel lights. The emerge into the dark emptiness of the Temp Space Agency, descending towards the dull blue glow of their commissionerâs computer screen. As always, Temp Bot is cheerful and her expression is merryâor rather, as merry as a computer screen could possibly be.
    âHello, Bee! Hello, Puppycat! Itâs been awhile! Today youâll be working for Princess Shroob,the leader of the Shroob race! â    Â
     â BlehhhâŠroyalty again? I hope she isnât anything like that jelly blob queen.â Both Bee and Puppycat shiver at the memory of that she-tyrant. After a particularly unlucky streak of demanding jobs, they were hoping for something more easy going. But beggars canât be choosers, anything that would make their wallet a little thicker in the end would be embraced. Â
    Following their uniform assignment, Temp Bot spits them into Shroobâs domain. As they progress across the planetâs surface, Puppycat gives Bee his usual briefing.  <The shroobs are a race of poison fungus people. I believe they might be a nomadic race, and they function under a monarchy. That is all I know, so pay close attention when she gives instructions.> Â
    â We got this! Letâs go, slow poke!â  Â
  It was already embarrassing enough to admit defeat in her attempted conquest so many years ago--especially after how far the Shroob race had gotten--and it was even more degrading when she found that she would require additional assistance in her invasion--it was a position that was open for trivial work, as more Shrooblings were plucked from the general community and sent into various squadrons by rank, all to be trained and furthermore sent into battle when their invasion was ready to be born. Hence, as more underlings were rounded up to present themselves as soldiers in the Shroobian army, the princess still required the core laborers to offer their services as they currently inhabited the mothership (the planet around them was scouted and deemed acceptable in taking as their own only days before Shroob had learned of the intergalactic temp agency).
  She had been pleasantly surprised to find that such a cooperation had existed in the first place--and that it had taken her this long to actually learn about its existence--but otherwise didn't care enough to look over the credentials of whom would be assigned to assist her, for it was certainly full-proof that if she were to increase the size of the army, there would be no chances of this planet's natives--if there were any to begin with, for the Shroobs had been docked upon its surface for approximately three days and had encountered no other extraterrestrials--being able to go against them in their invasion. They would fall and crumble before the poisonous mushrooms' reign; and then their temporary worker--or workers, for Her Highness didn't care enough to even check how many beings would be working for her (she had stated that she only required 'a few')--would be sent on their way with their payment. And as long as they did their job and didn't interfere with their plans, they would be getting away alive.
  Her underlings had been informed of the upcoming arrival of a new recruit hours before, though there was present confusion plastered upon the faces of the two guards at the mouth of the mothership as Bee had approached, Puupycat in her arms. They certainly hadn't been expecting a human--and her pet--to be the one that an intergalactic temporary agency would send them to assist in progressing through their invasion by preforming their mundane tasks to keep them going regardless of what they had been planning. They shot each other questioning glances but allowed the girl aboard the ship anyway, for if she was there on unofficial purposes, she would be promptly fed to their Piranha Plant alongside her . . . animal.
  Flanking her on either side, they escorted her through a specific route that led back to Her Highness's throne room, the one who would be able to determine if these two were welcome or not. The twins marched in rhythm; stomping upon metallic gates that felt as though they would give away to the floors below at any given second. If either Bee or Puppycat chose to look out of the glass walls that surrounded them, they would look down to find that they were walking across multiple laboratories that were quite pristine in comparison to what one might think in regards to the cleanliness of a vicious alien race. Tubes twisted about one another and ran all throughout the facilities, all leading back to larger glass canisters that would occasionally bubble up and then silence themselves; they were filled with a strange green liquid that held the remaining bodies of the Mushroom people that were still held captive even after the many years that passed after their previous attack on the corresponding Mushroom planet. But before either one could question their methods--why some of those tubes were running through the Toads' bodies, themselves--the temporary workers were guided through another hallway overlooking a large chamber that held a squadron of Shroobs in rows of five, all saluting in unison. Soon, they were upon the room in which Princess Shroob resided; the doors slid open like a mouth, two small fangs hanging off of the door frame.
  As they were ushered inside, Her Highness was found up a flight of stairs resting comfortably upon her throne, a chalice of Vim held within her right hand, a wine-colored tint coloring her lips to be a rosy pink--a good indicator that she had been drinking not long before their entrance. Shroob's eyes slit themselves as she looked over the unknown pair that were now shuffling about in place before she diverted her attention to the two guards that now stood beside them. After a brief exchange in their native tongue, the Princess stood up and descended the staircase, shortening the distance between them.
  Another quick once-over; she deemed that the girl was human--how disgusting--and spoke that of the English language--or so she hoped. âYou are the â„ â Î ÎŁ workers, are you not?â And even if they weren't, it would be safe to say that they were. âDo you prefer making yourselves useful in custodial work or in the culinary arts?â It was rather rare when Shroob offered a choice; but it would help in determining which job facilities she would need to pull troops from.
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