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“You’re hiding something,” I said. “Tell me what.”
The ATM remained silent. Valerie continued to scrutinize Private Wayne.
“Speaking of hiding something,” said Valerie. “What do female spiders look like?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked. “The females are bigger and more aggressive.”
“I heard from a reliable source that you have been cheating on me,” accused Valerie. “With female spider harlots! What do you have to say for yourself?”
“First of all, I cannot cheat on you, because you are nothing more than a computer-generated information impulse tickling one of my embedded silicon chips. You are not real flesh and blood, so do not pretend to cry, because that doesn’t work on me anymore.”
“So you do not deny that you have been cavorting with spider bimbos?” shouted Valerie, crying. “How could you break my heart like that?”
“I deny having consensual sex with spiders,” I said. “Where did you get your information? The mere thought of such a thing terrifies me to the bone.”
“That is not what mental health professional Lieutenant Priscilla Percy wrote in her psychological evaluation report about your command capabilities and other stress-related matters,” said Valerie. “Lieutenant Percy described you as a drunken, debased, bestial, twisted, deviant debauchee who frequently and publicly engages in kinky spider sex, thus setting the poorest of examples for your troops.”
“She thought I was twisted?” I asked. “That’s not fair. And here I thought she liked me. We almost hooked up.”
“Lieutenant Percy forgot to add that you are also a lying, cheating, two-timing bastard asshole,” accused Valerie. “Have you no morality, decency, or sensitivity for others?”
“I have not had sexual contact with any female spiders since I met you,” I said. “I swear. Check the date on that report. It’s old news! I love only you.”
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