When Sally got home from school one Wednesday, she knocked on her mothers' door.
"What is it?" her mother called. Mrs. Thorin was a busy woman; she did not have time for much of Sally's 9-year-old prattle today.
"Mommy," Sally's shrill voice cut through the oak door. "There was a strange man today. A strange man that kept following me. He kept asking me questions."
Mrs. Thorin jerked the door open. "They have stalking laws to prevent that sort of thing! What did he look like?"
"He was old," Sally said, "and he had a big mustache. He said he was my father."
"Alleged father, young lady. I never let him take a paternity test."
"Then what, Mom?" Sally pouted, "Am I adopted? An issue of marriage?"
"Well, That Man and I were married at one point, but we had irreconcilable differences. I had you after we divorced. He tried to go for joint custody, wanted split custody, but got sole custody because he was a cheating, lecherous dirtbag. That means he's a noncustodial parent.
"What kind of differences?" Sally asked.
"Well," her mother hedged, "it was a corporate resolution. It was so serious, they even wrote it out and put the corporate seal on it. The man was not good for my career."
"But MOM," (Sally's brain was not moving too fast, as usual) "Why would the company care who you married to?"
"Well, my father, as you know, was the chairman of the board. he wanted to release more shares on the market, and he made divorcing that sleazy scumpod a condition if I wanted to keep my subscription right. He couldn't have had that sort of control if it was a public corporation, but it was a professional corporation."
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