Sentence
The Sixhundredandseventythird
One effect of
President Duck Trumpet-Trousers turning back the clocks of the United
States of America twenty-four hours by his Executive Order was that
the Warrant to enter The Dolls House and arrest the adult inhabitants
became invalid, being forward dated to the next day; lawyers
successfully argued that it constituted an infringement of the
Constitution to arrest the three adults – Sir Parlane MacFarlane,
his valet, Dominic Doubleday and Mr Doubleday's wife, Marie, also
known as Mrs McOgle, proprietress of the establishment – and
Federal Judges had no alternative but to dismiss the Warrant as
unconstitutional, setting the three free and returning the children,
who had been taken into protective custody, to the House and the care
of the owner; of course, there was a loud chorus of protest, led by
Hyman Z Kaplan, Sadie Moskowitz, and Rose Mitnick, but to no avail;
the 'injured parties' retired within, along with the children, and
barred the doors to reporters and the television crews who had
encamped on the street; indeed, the city police were called and
resorted to water cannons and drawn batons to clear the street which
soon returned to its normal, boring. somnolence, and it was in the
Diner round the corner that the three intrepid reporters gathered,
not to
lick their wounds, but to plan their next course of action; of
course, the media – denied their story, for to publish anything
about the incident was to condemn the purveyors to a life-time in
Guantanamo Bay, which had already welcomed in five camera crews, four
producers, three editors, two Daily News Presenters, and one who
became known as 'the partridge in a pear tree' (the Anchor Man
on Fox News who had belatedly rewound his watch only to discover that
the story he had just broadcast wouldn't occur for another 12 hours!)
- and that in itself filled Duck with great joy, for he hated all
News Media with a vengeance; indeed at his Press Conference that very
morning, when John Soapsuds from the BBC stood up and had the
temerity not to back down under a barrage of highly
personal insults
from the President, but to ask about the constitutionality of winding
the nation's clocks back twenty-four hours, giving an estimated
25,000 people a second crack at their birthday and incarcerating
17,000 prison inmates for an additional day before their release
(indeed seven thousand who had already been released, had to be
re-arrested and returned to their prison cells to
await their new
release date the following morning) all Duck did was look deep into
Mr Soapsuds hazel eyes and, in a voice heady with superbity, utter
the immortal words: "you're fired!" which, due to them
coinciding with the flash of a photographers bulb, sounded remarkably
like "you're hired!" and immediately landed the
Presidential Human Resources Department in a welter of logistical
nightmares which stemmed from the necessity of delivering employment
contracts to Mr Soapsuds, followed in a heartbeat with the same
number of dismissal notices and subsequent claims of unfair dismissal
which tied the legal-eagles of the White House in knots for the
following ten years – ten years of exorbitant bills for
consultants, lawyers, specialist advisers and witnesses, five
separate courts and judges working on nothing else, fifty thousand
Grand Jurymen (and women) examining all the evidence from all seven
sides and effectively doubled the National Debt and bankrupted the
Cayman Islands accountancy firm of Quandary, Quibble and
Umbraticus International Addersup and Dividers
Inc, who had accidentally won the contract for the reduction of
the US National Debt (their letter requesting payment terms for a $15
postage fee debt having been misinterpreted by one of Duck's Love
Children, employed as a Special Advisor. who had mislaid his
calculator and simply gave up the arduous and Cimmerian
task of dividing the $15 into 12 monthly payments on his fingers and
simply mis-filed the letter among the other applications for the
National Debt Reduction Program) and, failing miserably, saw
its three executive directors and the office cat each jailed for
seven consecutive terms of 99 years, with no possibility of release
on parole until the sixth had been served to completion! but none of
that mattered to Hyman Kaplan, who reminded his friends of his Uncle
Gus's immortal words: "if we had ham, we could have ham and
eggs, if we only had eggs!" and they agreed on the man's
undisputed gift for gadzookery and set to work with relish, mustard,
maple syrup and skooshy cream on the groaning trenchers of pancakes
delivered by the ever-cheery and smiling 93-year-old Irma Grese
(still hiding out under her adopted work-name of Lola Goldstein,
after giving her guards the slip and avoiding execution for her
infamous treatment of prisoners in Bergen-Belsen and Auschwitz Death
Camps, she entered the United States in 1947, disguised as a bouquet
of barbed wire and walked on bare feet all the way from Rykers Island
to The Bronx, where she worked in a sweat shop owned by the
industrious Max Abelstein – born Martin Bormann, still a hale and
hearty 116-years-young and living in quiet retirement in a Queens
Autumn-tide Home where he happily dibbles his stick for the enjoyment
of the female residents – running up replica Nazi SS Uniforms for
Halloween Costumes and turning white Sheets into Ku Klux Klan outfits
for the 5th of July celebrations for twenty years before opening the
Diner along with her jovial 98-year-old partner,
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