the Gteat Satan will kill us all if we don't, hmmmmm, start warring properly." The man had wrapped a bathrobe over his casual Speedo self. He'd taken the precision ruler from his aides as carefully as one might receive a newborn. "Did you give the message?"
"Yes. What did it mean?" She clapped a hand over her mouth then whispered, Is it okay to ask?
"It's okay to ask princess, but I don't have to answer." He put the ruler into a carpenter's belt on the glass table.
"Why so much secrecy now?"
A tiny sigh but the man's frustration lost to a patience with young people.
"It means the seasons are changing. The birds must be eating and so, shitting."
A breeze moved the air but there were no clouds.
'That's all?"
"Yes, all. I wanted to make sure you can handle that piece if I need you too."
The breeze kicked sawdust up out of the grass.
"Why don't you people take the afternoon off. Have some fun."
"Nothing's fun anymore."
"So, work. Make some money for a rainy day or your cousin's wedding."
"The old broad's getting married is she?"
"So they say." He nodded in the direction of bathrobed women.
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