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As Colonel Morgan prattled on, endlessly regaling the
tailor with stories of his heroic slaughter of this or that
native horde, Minchkins - bored near to insanity - began to
doodle. Then he began to sketch. Form and line emerged;
cohesive patterns leapt from the fabric. But what were they?
What did they mean? A whirlwind of concepts and theories
inspired the now fevered lad and he set upon the back of the
customer with much vigor. Before long he had detailed plans
of an entire community; a new way of being where creativity
and flair replaced the shackles of indentured drudgery. A
place where all belonged and shared, and no-one lorded.
"This is how we should live", he thought. "Yes, this is how
it should BE!"
Tragically, the colonel happened to glance in the mirror
whilst reciting a particularly lascivious tale. His keen eye
immediately grasped the significance of the chalky
schemata.
Management was alerted.
The young idealist was taken directly to the stockroom and
summarily executed.
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