Thursday, August 17, 2006

Atypical Day

The Empire of Sixteen Heavenly Sins had fallen into disrepute. Or to be fair, it had fallen further into disrepute; the nation had been conceived on the tenets of infidelity, selfishness and chocolate - How much lower could it really go?

Quite a long way as it turned out. A lovable trickster had sold the half-planet's core to a greedy entrepreneur, and now the time had come for collection. A specially comissioned RageCorp Intergalactic Ultra-MegaFreighter, The Handbag of the Titans, was stationed in high orbit over the half-planet. It had been rented for the afternoon at a cost of sixty-trillion dollars per minute. But it was worth it. It was the only class of vehicle in the universe equipped to cart away the inside of a planet.

Inside the hall of the Imperial High Council sixteen angry men and two hundred and fifty beautiful women soaked in the warm baths. There was much screaming and throwing of champagne as the men debated what to do about the Empire's latest crisis.
"Let us once again examine the deed of entitlment," roared the High Chancellor of Ice Cream.
"Hear, Hear."
"Gentlemen, we have already examined the document. Mr. Frustum is now indeed the rightful owner of the core of our half of the planet. It's watertight," announced the Lord of Fast Cars.
"How can this be? How can such a document have come into existance?" screamed the UberMeister of Sexy Babes.
"Well, my dear UberMeister, obviously the document was written up and ratified by the Council."
Chaos ensued in the council house. The Lord of Fast Cars took a long drink of champagne as he waited for the commotion to die down.
"In fact, it was ratified. It has been signed by all sixteen members of the council, each and every one of you... *cough* and me. There's not a jot we can do about it."
The council fell silent, red faced, at these words. They had each received vast sums of money to support the signing of the document. Each one had signed, expecting the others in the council to object and strike the document out.
"We must be able to do something. Tear up the blasted thing," said The Dean of Chilly Beds on Warm Summer Nights.
"Impossible," said the Lord, "If we do that then we'll leave ourselves open to petitions to destroy every other document we've ratified. Nay, we have no choice but to allow this to go ahead."
"Hold on a second, my brothers," said the Prince of Lies. "I have a plan... but first some cake. Who's for Banoffi? Hands?"
Fourteen hands were raised.
"Chocolate Cake?"
Nine hands were raised. The Prince rolled his eyes.


  1. I think the Dean should be allowed to make the most important decisions.

    His department is the most important, after all.

  2. Yeah, of all the Heavenly Sins his is probably one of the most enjoyable in its own little way. He also oversees Warm Beds on Cold Winter Mornings. Another critical part of his job.