|
|
Out here in the solar system, we planets are none too happy about what’s happened to poor Pluto. I tried to give him some TLC, but it didn’t work. He’s mad. “Venus,” he said, “I feel like a downsized employee. How could I be hailed as a planet since 1930 and then just let go after some corporate science meeting?”
Mercury sped to Pluto’s defense. “We should have organized when Mars asked us to; too bad we thought he was a troublemaker – God of War and all that. Now none of us are safe.”
Neptune wondered why, in a universe where executives pocket hefty salaries without MBAs, and entertainers win honorary doctorates from top-notch schools, Pluto couldn’t have been grandfathered into the solar system.
The way Pluto sees it, he’s been orbiting around the Sun forever and was a member of the family for 76 years. And now, all of sudden, he’s a celestial body with insufficient mass. He’s having trouble even talking to juiced-up Jupiter and flashy Saturn with all her rings, as if body mass and bling were a job requirement.
He even left me feeling guilty. Long ago, he asked me to marry him and if I hadn’t turned him down, at least he would have the spousal rights of a planet. All he ever wanted was to live a simple life providing a humble, yet valuable contribution to the Solar System.
Uranus thinks it’s all Earth’s fault. “Why does Earth get to make all the rules? He’s actually destroying himself with a lousy diet, all that CO2, not to mention threats of nuclear war.”
From where I orbit, Pluto doesn’t want special treatment. He just wants to keep his job and his job title. And besides, he’s not going anywhere.
Love, Venus (a.k.a Saeeda Hafiz)