🚀 go-pugleaf

...anybody that I'm doing this.  My life wouldn't be worth a plug nickel
if they found out, but somebody's got to speak up.  Everybody lives
in a constant state of barely-concealed terror around here.  There's
no telling who they'll accuse next, or of what.  Trusted lieutenant's
of thirty years' standing have been unceremoniously taken out to
quad and fed to the wolverines, and I don't know how much longer any
of us can continue to ignore the hideous shrieks coming from the
basement "re-education center."  If help doesn't come soon, we'll
try to get out on our own, but they've had the razor wire on top of
the wall electrified, and every day another failed "junior executive"
is led out of the basement sobbing and used to train the Dobermans,
so you may not hear from me again.
There follows a transcript taken from a wire placed, at great personal
risk, in the conference room which connects the Headquarters office
suites:

(Rattle of ice in glasses.  Girlish giggles.)

LIBALP:  Quite, darlin'.  Daddy's talking business.  No, put that back
on, I can't play right now.

LIBWCA:  You need to learn to handle your cheerleaders, boy.

LIBALP:  What can I say. I'm a softy.  Pour me some of that.

(Pouring sounds)

LIBWCA:  Hey, hey, hey... go easy on that?  That Lafite-Rothschild,
son.

LIBALP:  Damn good, too.  Ever mix it with fresca?

(Silence)

LIBALP:  Hey, it's just grape juice.

LIBWCA:  Are the troops in place around the CHEATING bunker?

LIBALP:  Ready and waiting.  The Supreme CHEATING went off code 9
after that last post.

LIBWCA:  Good.  Good.  With Foss neutralized, our position is invincible.
Together, we shall rule the world.

(Fiendish laughter)
(Clicking glasses)
(Girlish giggles, followed by slapping noise)
Tape Ends