Germy sat at his Cybermail? desk writing to his friends (correction: acquaintances). Today Germy had received thirteen death threats through Cybermail?. Every single threat was linked to peoples’ dissatisfaction with his writing style. He had also won a middle management position in the galactic public service. Bastard. Suddenly his terminal beeped. This, of course, meant that someone had written to him. It turned out to be one of the three demons, who was offering to buy Germy’s soul. Immediately Germy clicked on the reply button. “Germy. Possible assassination attempt on yourself.” “dOLT,” Germy replied. “Germy, J is currently searching for you with one goal, to kill you, very nastily.” “dOLT.” “You really are a fuckhead aren’t you?” “dOLT.” Germy was oblivious to the dramatic turn his life was about to take. Suddenly... a “Cybermail? received” message flashed on the bottom right hand corner of the screen. Germy scratched his sweaty testes, pulled his hand free, smelled his fingers and pondered who it might be. After opening his mail he slowly scanned its contents:
WORK IS THE PLAN. VEGETABLES OFTEN
WONDER IF THEY WILL GET A ROOT. AND INDEED IF THEY ARE AS FORTUNATE TO
RECEIVE SUCH A BLESSING FROM CERES THEY FIND THEMSELVES ENDOWED WITH
BOTH STAMINA AND SEX APPEAL. THEN ALL THE LITTLE VEGIES ARRIVE AS A
GIFT OF CERES FOR HAVING A ROOT. SO THE LIFE CYCLE CONTINUES ON... BUT
UNFORTUNATELY FOR YOU GERMY, LIFE AS YOU KNOW IT ENDS HERE...
Germy sat back and laughed. “dOLT.” He giggled again. “dOLT.” It was most unfortunate that at that particular instant he leaned back a tad too far on his chair and fell, cracking his skull against the Cybermail? station behind him. Germy lay there and was unconscious (in the most literal sense) of a shadow creeping across the floor toward him... It was the Mad Arab Abdul Ab Hazarad!
Inflict Kafe Gavani On The World
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