by HAL MOUNTSAUERKRAUTEN, Alternate Reality News Service Crime Writer
“Can – can you – can anybody see me?”
Even standing on a chair, the only part of General Alooysius Mayhospidconhem that was visible above the huge pile of garbage bags containing illicit donuts was his manly forehead. It was a strong forehead, a forehead the projected calm in the face of adversity, a forehead that reassured you that justice would prevail. Ultimately, though, it was just a forehead, and it was not capable of communicating all that needed to be said under the circumstances.
“Why don’t you talk to us in front of the donuts?” I suggested. The other reporters in the room looked at me like I had just punched a Ventrosian squiggle in the nose.
After a moment, a chair scraped and General Mayhospidconfhem appeared. “Yes, this is probably for the best,” he said, his heroic forehead diminished by the appearance of the rest of his body, yet bravely trooping on.
The General explained that the donuts on the table had been taken during a raid on a warehouse used by the Windsor Cartel led by donut lord Michael “Silvio” Smithers. On the table were at least $20,000 worth of filled donuts with a street value of almost $21,000.
“We have broken the back of the Windsor cartel,” General Mayhospidconfhem crowed.
“Broken the Windsor cartel’s back?” token smart person Amy Sheshutshotshitbam snorted from the sanitorium where she was having a little rest from her…troubles. “Broken its pinky finger, more like! And, not even the one on the right hand! – the left hand’s pinky finger was the one that was broken!”
“Who…who said that?” General Mayhospidconfhem asked, looking around suspiciously. His forehead was clearly agitated by the derision.
“Come on!” token smart person Amy Sheshutshotshitbam continued. “How is this different from last week’s haul of crullers from the Killarney cartel? Or the interdiction of Timbits from the Crystal City cartel two weeks before that? This doesn’t affect anything – it’s all for show, and it’s a show that even John Doyle wouldn’t bother reviewing!”
“Listen, you…voice, you!” General Mayhospidconfhem’s forehead waggled a finger in the air. “The war on donuts wasn’t going to be won overnight! But, we have arrested 237 members of the Windsor gang – that’s 237 scumbags who won’t be peddling their sweet, sweet filth on the streets any more!”
When token smart person Amy Sheshutshotshitbam asked General Mayhospidconfhem if any of the people arrested would be made available for interviews, his forehead smirked. He said he would be happy to oblige, but they were found dead at the bottom of the stairs with broken necks.
“What, all of them?” token smart person Amy Sheshutshotshitbam increduloused.
“People high on sugar get…clumsy,” General Mayhospidconfhem let the smirk spread to his mouth.
The journalists in the room nodded to themselves in self-defense.
“That pile of stale donuts looks impressive,” token smart person Amy Sheshutshotshitbam commented, “if you’re the sort of person who is impressed by a stale donut pile.”
General Mayhospidconfhem motioned to one of his aides and whispered something that sounded like, “Spike the cormorant influenza to the max?!” but was probably, “Find out where that voice is coming from, will you?!”
“General,” token smart person Amy Sheshutshotshitbam continued, “almost since Joint Operation Beaver Hunt began, there have been rumours that military officers have diverted some of the confiscated donuts for their own use -“
“Absolutely not!” General Mayhospidconfhem shouted, wiping a little white powder off of his upper lip. His forehead tried to look like it wasn’t part of his body.
“And,” token smart person Amy Sheshutshotshitbam was relentless, “that some of your top aides have, in fact, been selling confiscated donuts back to the cartels to line their own pockets.”
“That’s a lie!” General Mayhospidconfhem shouted, slamming his fist on the table. Only, the table was so full of bags of donuts that he squished one of them instead; the red cherry filling squirted out of one of the donuts, coating the inside of the plastic bag. Everybody in the room looked at it with a powerful hunger.
His forehead eager for the press conference to be over, General Mayhospidconfhem quickly lit the bag of contraband donuts on fire. Given that the room was small and poorly ventilated, this seems, in retrospect, to be a bad idea, as it forced all of the journalists to flee the room trying to stifle coughing fits.
General Mayhospidconfhem’s forehead smiled in triumph.