"We've increased purchasing power by three-billion percent in the past twenty-six years. At this rate our state's corporate tax will be in close relationship with our plan to recruit new talent. Just as this-"
"But this is something that we just can't keep quiet about." D'arcy interupted. "This state is required to listen to businesses such as ours. How can we go on making this sort of a profit without having the government listen to what we have to say?"
"Listen," the first speaker continued. "If we just keep our company from sticking it's nose into places where it doesn't belong-"
"But there's no garrentee of a complete agreement among every single-" D'arcy was cut off by a gigantic Reese's Peanut Butter Cup that came flying in through the office window, and landing directly in-between the two speakers.
"Well that changes everything!" stated the first speaker, loosening his tie and allowing a glowing purple ooze to appear in the spot that once had been his stern face. He walked over to the desk and opened a drawer. He took out a stainless-steel antique letter-opener and shut the drawer. He picked up the formal black telephone on his desktop, handed the receiver to D'arcy, dialed, and scratched the tip of the blob on his shoulders.
D'arcy waited as the phone rang, then someone answered on the other end. "Come on Larry, get the gimp!" she shouted into the receiver and hung up. The two left the room in a hurry, forgetting to snuff out their burning cigarettes in the ash-tray.
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