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    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 merry--or 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 Blehhh...royalty 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













