Vexed in Biolence

Predator Press

[Mr. Insanity]

Our email read:

"Dear Boss,

Everything is great. We balanced the budget: even excluding the eight cents made in May, you stand to make around two hundred thousand a year starting now.

All bills are already paid. In fact, we paid the next four years of Predator Press taxes in advance.

There's not much to do except count all this money over and over. Sapphire got a tattoo, but we already wrote it off in 2008.

We were hoping for the office Christmas party in the Cayman Islands this year.

Sincerely,

The remaining Predator Press Staff"



***


Ethan's eyebrows furrowed ... the email clearly smelled of Pina Coladas and sunscreen.

He pushed himself back from the desk and rubbed his temples under stylish, reflective, interactive x-ray vision sunglasses.

"A profit?" he wondered aloud.

"What the hell happened to LOBO?"

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