Emperor Zog grimaced as another cold draft ruffled the wyrnyr-fur trimming
of his crimsom cape - a regal relic handed down through generations of
emperors. Looming over the council chamber, he perched upon a silver throne,
constructed of the swords gleaned from a long line of opponents not as
quick or ruthless as he, and glowered at the upstart cleric who dared
interrupt his train of thought. For a train of thought must always be
kept on schedule. Otherwise one might encounter a host of arising problems
not the least of which would be a horde of unhappy commuters rioting at the ticket boothes. This rioting would ultimately lead to a decrease
in the morale of the booth operators, thus resulting in a looming fear of an impending stike that would inevitably occur whenever
there is any cause for some sedentary organization, like a union, to have a cause. This strike would cause commuters to find
alternative transportation would result in a decrease in revenues. In order to offset such a decrease in revenues, ticket prices
would have to be raised and that would just discourage the rest of the railway patrons. Then ultimately having absolutely no
patrons, one would not be able to meet overhead costs and financial obligations, forcing a compulsory filing of a chapter
eleven. Then one's credit, that he worked so hard for all his life, would be reduced to nothing more than a smoldering mound of
sodden ashes upon which every walking ex-commuter would tread. There was no doubt about it. This arrogant cleric, blatantly boasting such blunt power, would surely have to be destroyed. With a swish of his mighty hand, Zog flicked back the wyrmyr-fur cape and clasped the little holy man in his giant grasp. The man squirmed in Zog's mightly clutch. The sentence has been obvious from the outset. None had ever escaped such a punishment and the cleric's eyes widened as he suddenly realized what was to become his fate. Zog gripped the cleric's hand and held it so as to point the index finger of his left hand skyward. He then leaned down and touched it to the electric third rail.
The author comments, "A three in the morning, bleary eyed, after cramming, inspiration. :)"
