President Wormsley gnashed his teeth agitatedly and glanced at the clock. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his top shirt button. Finally he picked up the telephone and placed another call to NASA. Once again he got the answering machine.

"Goddamnit!" he shouted into the receiver. "This is the goddamn President of the United States! Somebody pick up the fucking phone!"

He heard a click and then somebody came onto the line. "Yeah, this is Ed."

"Ed? This is President Wormsley. Can you tell me the status of the Mars flight?"

"Uh, just a minute, sir. I'll have a look." The phone went silent. President Wormsley heard some footsteps in the background and then Ed came back on. "Well, I just looked out the window and the shuttle is on the launch pad. So I reckon everything's okay."

"You reckon?" President Wormsley uttered in disbelief. "My God, what kind of program are you running over there? Who put you in charge of this operation anyway?"

"Oh, I ain't in charge of this operation," Ed said sheepishly. "Shoot, I'm just the janitor."

"The janitor?" President Wormsley sputtered. "Who the hell is in charge of the Mars mission anyway? Get him on the phone!"

"That would be Captain Smitty," Ed said. "But you can't talk to him right now." 

"Why not?" President Wormsley shouted.

"He ain't come into work yet today."

President Wormsley sighed. "Listen Ed, can I talk to whomever's the highest ranking person present?"

"I can get one of the technicians."

"Fine."

Before too long a new voice came on the line. "This is Fred. What can I do for you?"

"Fred, this is President Wormsley. What the hell is going on down there? Where is Captain Smitty? The launch is scheduled for about four hours from now!"

"Well sir, we just got a phone call from Captain Smitty. It seems he overslept this morning. He's got to run his kids to day care, but he said he'd make it in time for the launch."

"Look, about the launch," President Wormsley interrupted. "I promised the American people we'd have a manned flight to Mars within my first term. With the elections coming up again next year this mission has to go smoothly with absolutely no foul-ups. Do you understand? I've been an utterly mediocre President up to this point. I simply must achieve some sort of glory during my term in office or I may not be re-elected. I don't want to be a one-termer. It looks bad in the history books, you know what I mean? So can I have your assurance that everything about this mission is going well?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. "Well, there has been one small foul-up. Astronaut Peterson has come down with a nasty case of the clap and will be unable to go on the mission. But don't worry, sir. We've found a replacement for him."

"Who?" President Wormsley asked.

"Well, uh..." There was another pause. "It's a chicken. But before you freak out, let me assure you that the chicken is more than adequate to fill the job. Astronaut Peterson wasn't exactly requisite to the mission, if you know what I mean."

"Weren't there any human replacements you could have found?"

"Nobody except Ed the janitor. And between you and me, the chicken was vastly more qualified. But don't worry. Peterson may be gone, but his partner Astronaut James Trueheart is still all set to go and he's absolutely as good as they get. The mission is safe in his hands."

"Well thank you for your time, Fred," President Wormsley said and weakly hung up the phone. He clasped his head in both hands and quietly cursed the day he'd signed that bill to cut funding to NASA training programs.