"What is Sector 8?" Sir Josh asks of the midget in the business suit.
The midget, Flint, scratches his belly-length beard as he lead Sir Josh
through a maze of midget-sized cubicles.
"It's hard to explain. Surely you've heard of Addventure.com, Horsehockey
and all that?"
"Sure, of course." said Josh, as they passed an astonishingly long line of
midget-sized vending machines.
"Well, we ... how do I put this..." The midget paused in front of a midget-
sized water fountain. Above him was a poster of a seagull flying over a
landfill. In a hard to read font below were the words, "When you crap on
crap, God kills a kitten."
-
"We help maintain them. We...firm up dead storylines."
-
"We hate them. We hate them all."
-
"We're the power behind the throne. S.A.T.A.N., the red door, the silvery puddle, all us."
-
"We're just a bunch of crazy midgets who like interactive games."
-
"Help us!" Flint whispered. "He's crazy, he killed and ate Susan yesterday."
-
"Prisoner, Sir Toby, Chris...all fake identies. We run -all- the games."
-
"Welcome to the Matrix, Neo. I am Morpheous. This is not my real shape."
-
Before Flint could say anything, the water found opened up, extended itself and swallowed him whole.
-
"All the writers, except you and Ragan...well, that's us. Lots42, MSG, Ben...commitee. We made up Lots42 while drunk off our buts."
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