Due to the many requests I received to consolidate the individual chapters, below is the first installment of The Revolt in its entirety. Enjoy!
You have got to be kidding me.
Reaching into her apron for the third time, Marcia grabs yet another straw and hands it to the four year old child in the high chair in front of her, wondering how many more times the mother is going to ask for a piece of plastic to entertain her misbehaved, obnoxiously loud child.
“Here you go, sweetheart” She says, reluctantly maintaining the same grin she’s become all-too-accustomed to over her last four years serving at Lenghorn.
“Can I get you anything else?” She asks the mother.
“Um, no. That’s all for now.” The patron replies, only halfway paying attention to her. “Oh, actually you know what? We could use some more bread.” She adds, pointing to the three pieces left on the board in front of her, not bothering to look her in the eye.
“You got it.” Marcia says with a smile. “I’ll be right back.”
Slowly swiveling to face her other table, Marcia takes a deep breath to contain the frustration she’s feeling. It’ll all be over soon, she thinks, referring to the night classes she takes that will launch her into a life outside of the serving industry.
“You folks still doing okay? Do you need anything?” She asks her other table, thankful that these people are actually appreciative of the job she’s doing.
“No thanks! We’re good.” The patrons reply, thanking her for checking on them.
Geez. Why can’t everyone be like you guys? Marcia wonders, making her way back to the server line to grab the fourth loaf of bread for her previous table.
As she walks into the kitchen, she overhears her coworker Chris’ contagious laugh. It’s a welcome sound, as his bellowing voice never fails to wash away the frustration servers feel toward their customers.
“What’s so funny?” Marcia asks.
“Oh, nothing.” Rachel, the polite and positive server that everyone likes replies. “The boys are just trying to test Emily’s butt to see if it pops like a balloon when you poke it. Some of them think she’s gotta be sporting some panty pushups to have an ass like that.”
“Men.” Marcia says, rolling her eyes with a laugh.
“Hey Marcia! I need you to check me out.”
Coming around the corner, Dustin walks towards her with his checkout paper ready to sign. “I’m in section 41-61.” He says. “But wait. I don’t mean like, check me out. You know? Not like, check me out as in check me out. I mean do my check out. Cause I’m cut. And you know, you have to….check me out. So will you check me out?”
“Breathe, Dustin.” Marcia says. “Here, let me sign it for you.”
As Marcia initials Dustin’s checkout receipt, a long, plate sized, slender-legged spider crawls out from the corner of the ceiling.
“OPEN UP YOUR SIDE WORK!!” The spider shouts. “This is the third time I’ve gotten ice for you people!”
“I’m sorry Blake!” Nela mutters. “I was too beesy asking for halp on the compooter.” Nela, a sweet, Bosnian princess, recently began making the transition from hosting to serving.
Looking toward Marcia, Chris (with the bellowing laugh) whispers in her ear. “You know, sometimes that spider annoys the hell out of me, but I have to admit, he’s actually kind of right. Maybe we really do need to start doing a better job of doing our side work.”
Overhearing the conversation, Michelle, the ruby-haired damsel behind the bar agrees. “He’s right. Sometimes it takes balls to tell people they need to get it together. And that spider’s balls are big. Like, way big.” She adds, smirking as she walks off.
“Guys! We need seengers!”
Out of nowhere, an Egyptian-looking male server starts to sprint-walk through the server alley. “I have a birthday and I need seengers!”
“Dammit.” Marcia says. “Alright, let’s go.”
As the two leave to sing happy birthday to a customer that probably would rather not have them sing happy birthday, the phone begins to ring.
“Anyone gonna pick it up?” Mike, the other bartender asks.
“I’ll get it. Since apparently they love to schedule me on to-gos.” Replies Mark, one of the more sensitive servers of the bunch.
Picking up the phone, Mark answers with his bottled Lenghornian greet.
“It’s a wonderful day at Lenghorn! How may I…”
“YEAH WHO’S THIS I’M SPEAKING TO?” The voice on the phone interrupts.
“Um, Mark.” Mark replies.
“Well you get me a manager on the horn. This here is the district manager and we need to talk about who all we need to let go.”
“Let go?” Mark says. “But…why?”
“Aw come on now son, don’t be dense. You know as well as I do that some of ya’ll just don’t get it. And we can’t have you slow ones pulling the rest of us down.”
“Okay sir. I’ll…I’ll go get my boss. Please hold.” Mark mutters.
Walking to the back of the restaurant, Mark knocks on the manager’s door.
“Hey boss.” He says. “I think corporate’s on the line for you.”
Perking up, the manager jumps out of his chair. “Great! Let’s see what they want.”
As the manager makes his way to the phone, Mark lingers in the back with the other servers who are racking their silverware.
“Hey guys.” He says, pointing toward the front. “I think our boss is about to get rid of a bunch of us.”
“Excuse me?” Bernard, an alpha server, steps forward in response to Mark’s assertion. “What do you mean they’re getting rid of us?”
“I’m not sure.” Mark says. “But I think that’s what they’re talking about.”
“Oh, HELL NO.” Bernard says. “We ain’t putting up with this anymore.”
Suddenly, an eerie blue mist appears from underneath the refrigerator door. As the door begins to slowly squeak open, a small, fairy-looking creature flies out from beyond the mist.
“Hello Lenghornians!” The fairy exclaims. “It is I! Ashli, Queen of the House of Back! And do not forget my accompaniment, Connee! Queen of the House of Front!”
Rushing forward and bending to his knees, Xavier the unicorn, widely known as the wittiest of them all, bows to the fairies.
“Oh Fairies!” He shouts. “Alas! We have pondered the hour of your arrival! Please, you must save us from the goings-on that is corporate!”
“Fear not.” Connee says. “For I have a very special pixie dust that shall render your rulers…obsolete.” She says with a sinister smile.
“But is it safe to release this power amongst mortal men?” Asks Ashli, the other fairy.
“It is so!” Connee replies. “Step forward Xavier, behold the power of Prairie Dust!”
Approaching the fairy, Xavier the unicorn gallops toward Connee, fulfilling her request.
“Now,” Connee instructs, “sprinkle a smidgeon unto thy co-worker Wendell.”
Slowly walking forward, Xavier grasps the small pouch of Prairie Dust in his teeth. Walking toward Wendell, he shakes his head to sprinkle a portion of the pouch onto Wendell’s long, glistening hair.
“Behold!” Connee repeats, pointing to the transformation Wendell is undergoing.
At first, not much happens. The dust simply falls into Wendell’s hair and gradually makes its way onto his scalp, out of sight. Then, after several suspenseful seconds, his limbs begin to transform into onion petals. Slowly, one by one, every piece of his body is converted into an item on the Lenghorn menu. After it’s all said and done, the only thing that remains is an appetizer sampler and a texas tonion.
“MUAHAHAHA!!!” Connee shrieks. “We must unleash this onto the powers that be!”
Collectively nodding, the servers high five each other and begin talking about how excited they are to see their bosses turn into food.
“Psst. Hey, MP!”
“Don’t you think we should get rid of that unicorn thing? He sure is a crappy server.”
Back in the Tower of Management, the Lenghornian higher ups collude with one another. Speaking at a whisper, the District Manager and the local manager attempt to conceal their true intentions for the team.
“Who, Xavier?! Of course not! He’s too valuable on the Equal Employment list! You know we’ve got to maintain an image of non-discrimination! No, we must keep that rainbow unicorn on the roster! I’ll be damned if I have to put up with that Equal Unicornist Rights group again.”
“Good point, district manager. Good point. You are so wise, indeed. Say, weren’t we talking about who we intend on letting go?”
“Yes, I believe we we’re.”
“Well I believe I have the perfect candidate. He goes by the name of James. He is a cook that everyone seems to like, and nobody appears to find fault with. In fact, it’s even said that he might actually have genuine feelings for his offspring. We believe it is a girl.”
“NAY!” Shouts the district manager. “We cannot allow these ‘feelings’ to run rampant in our kitchen! We must oust this feeling-haver for the good of the realm!”
“Yes, indeed. We must oust him.” The local manager says, turning to look over the hunch on his back. “And perhaps then we will have achieved our goal: a team of line cooks who are TOTALLY BRAINLESS! MUAHAHAHA!!!!”
“But wait!” The district manager shrieks. “Alas! There is Taylor and Chris. And Joel, I think.”
“Ah, you are right.” The local manager sneers. “We must find a way to be rid of them too.”
“Its true. Only then will we have the brainless team we so desire.” The district manager says, slowly closing the “How to be a Robot” training handbook he has in his hand.
The day following the epic Return of the Fairies, the Lenghornian servers regroup at the House of Back.
“Alright guys, so how are we gonna get this dust on top of our managers heads? It will no doubt require the utmost planning and skill.” asks Thomas, Lord of the Shouting Expos.
“Good question.” The new guy whom no one knows his name replies. “Maybe one of the ferries could fly it up to the Tower of Management and sprinkle it on them whilst they slumber.”
Reappearing from beyond the blue mist of the refrigerator closet, Ashli, Queen of the House of Back joins the conversation.
“Um, it’s ‘fairies’, Mr. No One Knows Your Name. A ‘Ferry’ is what you take to cross the overflowing River of Dirty Dishes. And no,” she adds, “this is a quest that must be completed by mortals. One of you brave deliverers of food must accomplish this task alone.”
“But we can’t fly!” Jessica B and W cry, panning the group to see which females feel threatened by the fact that other attractive dames have joined the team. “However will we make it to the top of the Tower undetected?!”
“We shall have to figure out an alternative.” Bernard, the alpha server asserts. “We will get that dust on those managers heads if it’s the last thing we ever do!” He shouts.
“Oh Bernard! Whatever would we do without your bravery!” Several of the female servers sigh, gleaming at the dark, smooth complexion of his armor.
“Worry not, my companions.” He replies. “I shall do what is required. It will be nothing but an honor if I am to sacrifice my life for the sake of the realm.”
Interrupting the huddle, Slug, a Lenghornian assistant manager waltzes into the House of Back to check on whether or not the servers are doing their jobs.
“Loyal subjects!” He exclaims, “Who among you dare to plot against my superiors!”
“GASP!” The group takes in a loud breath of air as they realize their plot has been compromised.
“But Slug! It is you whom so many of us get along with! Please! You must help us obtain our freedom from the oppressive regime of the Tower of Management!!” Squeaks Summer, perhaps the favorite server amongst the team. “How ever did you become aware of our plan?”
“Aye,” Slug declares, “There is a traitor amongst you! For one of you has passed along the information you discuss privately to the local manager! But worry not, for you are right, my fair lady. I shall lend whatever assistance I can in order to complete this monumental challenge.”
“Then it is decided!” Connie, Queen of the House of Front announces. “I hereby declare Bernard Knight of the Realm, along with Slug, Lord of the Faithful Minions! Minions – prepare for battle!!” She adds, flying away into the blue mist of the refrigerator.
“You heard her!” Chris, the uplifter of moods shouts. “Despite our differences, we stand united! Prepare for battle!!!!”
“HUZZAH!!” The servers yell in unison, heading to their quarters to sharpen their weapons and polish their armor.”
As dawn sweeps over dusk on the morning of the Battle, the Lenghornian servers and fairies huddle together to plan their assault on the Tower of Management.
“My fellow servers!” Bernard the Knight bellows, “Today is the day we honor our forefathers! We must earn back the right to serve freely, and rip apart the Chains of Meaningless Rules that bind us down! The Chains are hidden below the Tower of Management, deep under the Dish Pit of Despair.”
“Not the Dish Pit of Despair!” Pip, the beautiful hostess with the mostess cries. “No one has ever returned from there alive!”
“It is true.” Bernard says. “But alas, one among you must accept responsibility for this task, as it will prove crucial to our success.”
Taking a deep breath, Mike, the Tender of Bars steps forwards.
“I accept this quest.” He says, kneeling before the fairies, who are floating in front of the group. “I will use my superior intellect to outsmart the guards, thus gaining entry to the Dish Pit of Despair. I will then apply the Golden Towel of Cleanliness to wash away the Chains of Meaningless Rules.
“Perfect!” Connee the fairy yells. “This will provide a welcome distraction for our Knight to scale the Tower of Management, sprinkling the Prairie Dust on the unsuspecting heads of our oppressive managers!”
Clapping and cheering, the servers roar in anticipation of the battle to come.
While the servers are busy planning their assault on The Tower of Management, the scheming managers are vigorously coming up with their own plan to defend their oppressive reign.
“My liege!” Yells Gay, another of the assistant managers. “Our informant has sent a dispatch stating that our subordinates intend to lay siege to our keep!”
“Fools!” The district manager shrieks. “How little these peasants know. For we have a secret weapon capable of crushing their assault easier than swatting the gnats by the drink station!”
“Please, my lord, tell me of this secret weapon!” The ass. manager replies.
“His name is Matt.” The district manager sneers. “He claims to try and help the servers, when in reality he is just as much our puppet as the others!! We shall unleash him upon our attackers the instant they lay siege to our gates. Muahahahah!!”
“A brilliant plan!” Gay cheers. “But sir, we have also caught wind that they intend to wash away the Chains of Meaningless Rules!”
“Blasphemy!” The angered district manager shouts. “We must break this wind. Those chains were bestowed on us straight from the Gods of Corporate! They are stronger than any other chains in the realm! Let them try.” He adds with a sinister smile.
“Of course, master.” The ass. manager says, creepily rubbing his hands together. “Then we are prepared. I look forward to destroying our enemies with impunity.”
“Muahahahaha!!” The managers cackle together.
“Faster my faithful steeds!!”
Leading the charge to the Tower of Management, Bernard mushes Jessica N and Sandy, two faithful stallions that are used to carrying the responsibilities of the restaurant on their shoulders. As the chariot carrying the Lenghornians picks up speed, the group chats from within.
“What do you think will happen?” Asks Christina, the very attractive yet slightly intimidating tender of bars.
“I fear that is unknown.” Replies Stephanie, perhaps the most well rounded, unfullofshit server. “But the prophecies have foretold that this battle would someday be upon us. Let us pray to the Gods of Corporate for their blessing!” She adds, as the Lenghornians bow their heads in respect.
“All knowing and benevolent Gods,” she begins, “we call upon thee to shed upon us your wisdom and courage! Today we shall lay siege to those who have so long restrained us from the freedom and happiness that we so truly deserve! Please, if it be your wish, grant us the strength and will to vanquish our enemies, and triumph over those who only desire power and control!”
Suddenly, as if they were summoned on purpose, three figures manifest from within the chariot.
“Hark! It is we, Steve, Coleen and Jessica B who hath returned from beyond the veil to bestow upon you our good fortune!” The trio shouts. “Our mortal lives may have been ended by our oppressors, but our spirits live on!”
“Huzzah!!” The Lenghornians cheer.
“My friends, you must heed my word.” Steve, the fallen server begins. “Your enemies have unleashed a secret weapon by the name of Matt to protect the Chains of Meaningless Rules. Mike, I understand you have accepted the treacherous task of breaking the chains.” He says, pointing to the Tender of Bars.
“It is so.” Mike asserts. “I am ready to lay down my life for the good of the realm.”
“But alas!” Steve shouts. The prophecies have foretold of a weapon capable of destroying this Matt. It is said that his one true weakness may be exploited with this mystical object.”
“Please!” Christina cries, “Inform us of this weapon you speak of!”
Grinning widely, Steve reaches into his ghostly backside and pulls something from straight out of his ass.
“Behold!” He shouts as the sun epically glimmers from behind him, nearly blinding the Lenghornians. “The Blade of Side Work! The foe Mike is to face shall be no contest for this almighty sword, as Side Work is Matt’s one true weakness!”
“Huzzah!!!” The Lenghornians cheer with spirits so high they could almost reach the Gods of Corporate. “To war!!”
“Battle stations!! Cooks! To the wall!!”
As the sun reaches its highest point during the midday Spring afternoon, the Lenghornian chariot, led by Bernard and the Fairies, can be seen as they gallop over the grassy hills leading to the Tower of Management. It’s clear that the managers have used the majority of their resources to build grandiose banisters and beautiful lawns, only allocating a small allowance to those of their subordinates.
Hurriedly rushing to man their stations on the wall, the managers’ team of brainless cooks begins to notch their Silver Arrows of Ware.
“Fire at will!” The local manager shouts, sheepishly falling back to the safety of the Tower. “My lord!” He shouts to the district manager. “We must make haste, we cannot afford to lose you. Quickly! To the top of the Tower!” He adds, leading the way back into the Keep.
Sluggishly hopping alongside the district manager, the local manager’s hunch begins to slow him down. Seeing the difficulty his faithful minion is having, the district manager turns around to face him.
“Come!” He shouts. “We have no time to waste!”
Realizing that he will only slow his lord down, the local manager falls to his knees in defeat.
“Go…” He mutters. “You must save yourself for the good of the realm.” He adds, holding a hand out, grasping out at the nothingness before him.
Reluctantly nodding his head, the district manager agrees.
“Your sacrifice shall be sung by the bards for a thousand eternities, my loyal subject!” The district manager cries, shedding a crimson tear of strawberry lemonade as he turns to scale the stairs to the top of the Tower.
As he nears the top, he peers down out of the open stone window to view the events that are transpiring on the battlefield. The Lenghornians have breached the gate, and are slowly making their way toward the keep, nearing the Tower itself. As he leans back to return to his ascent he notices that Connee, Queen of the House of Front, has scaled the wall and is hovering over the defeated local manager.
“MUAHAHAHAHA!!” She shrieks with elation. “How would you like YOUR steak cooked?!” She shouts, sprinkling a pinch of prairie dust over the manager’s head.
Suddenly, as prophesized, the local manager’s arms violently turn into chili cheese fries, as his legs snap into stalks of steamed asparagus. His feet, previously covered by slip-free restaurant shoes, quickly begin morphing into loaded baked potatoes. Finally, just as his last screams begin to echo across the realm, his head pops into a 16 oz cut of prime rib, with au jus pouring from his eye sockets.
“NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!” The district manager cries, witnessing the horrific events with his own eyes. “Rest easy my son. I shall avenge you!” He shouts to himself, returning to his climb to the top of the Tower.
Quietly tiptoeing through the catacombs deep below the Tower of Management, Mike, the Tender of Bars makes his way toward the chamber that houses the Chains of Meaningless Rules. Knowing that his enemies’ secret weapon Matt might pop out at any moment, he keeps his head on a swivel as he makes his descent.
“Quiet!” He hears, turning around to see who has followed him. “Don’t alarm the guards.”
Creeping through a small hole in the stone wall beside him, Austin, the cute but mysteriously quiet and reserved mouse trails behind Mike.
“Austin!” Mike whispers. “You shouldn’t have come! This is a dangerous quest I have undertaken.”
“But alas,” the mouse says, “I couldn’t allow you to fight Matt alone! I feel inclined to support you!”
“So be it.” Mike sighs. “Come, follow me.” He adds, unsheathing the Blade of Side Work.
Continuing to tiptoe down the hall, they finally make it to the large chamber that holds the Chains of Meaningless Rules. They are massive, with each chain link equaling about the size of the overweight patrons who drink far too much sweet tea.
“Wow.” Austin says, creeping up to the gigantic chains.
“WHO GOES THERE?!?!” An annoying voice shrieks. “How dare you approach the Chains of Meaningless Rules!! You must do as you are told without question!” Matt shouts, leaping down from above with a massive bread board to swat away the meaningless peasants.
“Yah!” He shouts, wafting the bread board before them.
“Nay!” Mike screams, with Austin on his shoulder. “We will submit to your treachery no longer!!” He adds, shoving the Blade of Side Work into Matt’s small, bubbly butt.
“NOOOOOO!!!!!” Matt shrieks. “Side work!!!! How did you knowahhhhhhhhhh!!!” He cries as his spirit leaves his body, drifting into the abyss that is the Veil.
“Huzzah!” Austin cheers. “Now we can wash the Chains away with the Golden Towell of Cleanliness!!”
“Aye.” Mike declares, applying the Towell liberally. “May these Chains never restrict our companions again!” He adds, trying to discard the towel but not making it into the basket, leaving it on the floor.
“Come. We must return to the surface to join the others and inform them of our victory.” He says.
In the confines of the Tower of Management’s Walls, the fray between the servers and the brainless cooks comes to a head. Despite losing many of their comrades, the servers have persevered through the fight as if they’ve been triple seated whilst simultaneously serving a party of twelve.
Knowing they are nearing the end, Bernard the Knight gallops forward atop Jessica N, the strongest steed.
“Follow me!” He screams, his face bloodied with the creamy sauce of a hundred ramekins of extra ranch. As the Lenghornians scale the Tower, they finally corner the district manager as they step out onto the rooftop.
“Surrender!” Bernard shouts, pointing his blade of Steak Knives at him.
“Never!” The district manager yells, pulling a paper from within his robe. “Feast your eyes upon the legendary Scroll of HR Conflict Resolution! Your feeble attempts to oust me have failed! For this scroll grants me immunity from being punished for any wrongdoings! MUAHAHA!!”
“No!” Bernard yells. “But the prophecies foretold our victory!”
“Your prophecies are as worthless as your customers’ expired Christmas coupons!” The district manager exclaims, covering Bernard with the Scroll of HR Conflict Resolution, watching him disappear into the veil.
“NOOOOOO!” The Lenghornians shout in dismay. “You killed our leader! NOOOOO!!!!!” They continue to cry.
“Wait!” A voice from behind bellows. “Behold! We have broken the Chains of Meaningless Rules!”
Sure enough, as the prophecies foretold, Mike, the Tender of Bars appears on the rooftop, his apron armor gleaming in the sun.
“Your Scroll no longer wields its power! I henceforth wash away ALL meaningless rules from the realm, and liberate my fellow servers from your oppressive rule! Lenghornians!” He shouts. “Apply the dust of prairies!”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!” The district manager screams, as all of the Lenghornians circle around him and sprinkle their Prairie Dust. “I…will…come…aghh…..” He mutters, as he slowly turns into a Chocolate Stampede, indicating the stampede of free reign and dawn of the new era.
“HUZZAH!!” The Lenghornians cheer. “Finally! We have broken free of our oppressors!” They all shout in unison.
“Now,” Mike says, “we must restructure our village. Henceforth, we will all be equal and free to serve as we see fit. Lenghornians,” he finishes, “UNITE!”
The morning following the epic Battle for Free Servitude, the sun is shining particularly bright upon the realm. As the dawn of the new era begins, the remaining Lenghornians gather around the bodies of their fallen comrades.
“Brothers! Sisters! Fairies and spiders! Sword-poopers and spirits! Lend me your ears!” Shouts Mike, the newly promoted Breaker of Chains. “We must pray to the Gods of Corporate for bestowing their blessings upon us, leading us to victory against the oppressive Managers of Old!”
Silently lowering their heads, the group kneels before the burning bodies of their brothers and sisters as Ashli, Queen of the House of Back floats forward to pray.
“Merciful Gods of Corporate,” she begins, “we call upon thee to voice our thanks for your indescribable courage and wisdom. We mortals, who cannot comprehend your splendor, are forever in your debt for the strength and victory you have granted us. We shall rebuild this land in your honor!” She adds, raising her fairy wand. “But alas, we must ask one more favor of you. If it be your will, please allow the spirits of the fallen to enter the Kingdom of Headquarters, where they may enjoy the fabled Food and Ales of your high-rise Corporate Cafeteria! We pray that the following souls be granted entry to your kingdom: Bernard, Knight of the Realm!”
“Huzzah!” The others cheer.
“Steve, Coleen, and Jessica B.”
“Sandy, faithful steed of the House of Front.”
“David, Obtainer of Extra Shifts and Recruiter of Softball!”
“Wendell, Sacrificer of Life for Dust Demonstration!”
“Mark, Server of Sensitivity and Drummer of Musics!”
“And finally,” Ashli begins, “we pray that you protect our Free Lands from now until the end of time. Amen.”
“But wait!” Suddenly, a forgotten voice echoes from beyond the Kitchen Hills. In the distance, a rainbow unicorn can be seen galloping towards the group, heavily panting as he nears them.
“Xavier!” The Lenghorians shout. “Where have you been? We feared you got lost during our march to the Tower of Management!”
“Neigh!” Says the horse, winking and chuckling to himself at the cleverly added pun that he just realized was a pun. “You have forgotten! The Urine of Unicorns breathes life back into the bodies of fallen comrades! But I fear I have the bladder to bestow my gift upon only one of our loyal companions.”
“GASP!” The Lenghornians collectively breathe in a loud rush of air.
“He is right!” Chris shouts. “Whoever shall we resurrect?”
“That’s easy,” Blake the Long-Legged says. “For there is one among them whom never tests my nerves. Alas! We shall resurrect our rhythmic drummer Mark!”
“So be it!” Xavier shouts, squatting over Mark’s inanimate head to begin urinating in his mouth.
Finally, after several shakes, Xavier steps aside to view the results of his relief.
“Cough….cough cough. **Gag** What in the name of the Maker?”
“Behold!” Xavier shouts, as he shakes off the last of his rainbow urine. “He is alive!”
“HUZZAH!!!!!” The Lenghornians cheer, as they jump for joy.
As the group returns to their duties, happy as the steamed clams that aren’t on the menu, a dark shadow lurks in the distance, observing their celebration.
“Muahahaha!” The figure cackles to Kelsey, the ass. manager beside him. “Fools! They have no idea that we are climbing the Ladder of Corporate to replace our weak-minded superiors!”
“You are right, Slug.” Kelsey says. “Let them rejoice. We will return stronger than ever!”
“MUAHAHAHAHA!” They laugh, creeping their way back toward the destroyed Tower of Management.