The wife connived with the new intern and tampered with space launch data into game code.
I wanted to correct myself, but the intern threw me a pink slip.
"How dare a stinky jobber dare to point fingers? Do you know who my wife is?"
He hit the delete button and cleared out the launch program I had spent eight years writing.
"Don't talk about this launch, the entire space center is my family's property!"
I noticed that the ring on his finger was clearly a couple's ring with the one on his wife's hand.
I sneered, turned around and dialed the number of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration:
"I heard that this launch mission has been subcontracted to a private person, so I won't accompany you."
