traffick boss has a quill pen and is sitting in the break room >> >> he has disconnected the lights and instead an oil lamp is placed on >> the table at which he is seated > > > dictator of dictatortopia calls up on an emergency satellite phone > > a zombie government worker comes in, dressed in a long tailed jacket, with > the phone on a platter > > intern comes in and makes photocopies of some tax forms > > zombie government worker: “boss, it’s dictator of dictatortopia” > > platter: “ring! ring! > > xerox machine: “whirr! cachunk!” >
traffick boss (on phone): “what? you say the british are coming, dictator of dictatortopia?” intern: “can i turn the lights back on to check my copies came out right” traffick boss hands his oil lamp to intern traffick boss (to zombie government worker): “the british are coming!” >
