The excited agitation leads to a quick slip of the multi-centurian, landing backwards into a heap of stewing stock. The soft pulp saves his hip, but appears to have provided just enough of a shock to stir his mind into action. He slops around and stands, racing towards a sheaf of paper. Grabbing a slip of grease from the ground, he starts sketching out the documents which shall foment his entry into the realm of the sixth dimension. Joe claims that only by transversing to the other side can he properly seal off the Beuro-bots access to this dimension. He scrawls with such a speed and fury you can barely believe what you are witnessing. Obscure sub-sections looping around into an infinite leap of logic which all leads back into a single appendix which he proceeds to crumple up and shove down his throat.
“Joe! I can't let you do this! You mean too much to me now! This past hour has been one of the most beautiful and meaningful moments of my life! I know this might seem sudden, but really, it's like, all this time, you've been my father... the father I never knew, here, hiding in the sub-sub-sub basement of the local mill. You needn't do this Joe! Stay with me here, raise me into a real useful man! Make me worth something. MAKE ME WORTH ANYTHING! PLEASE DON'T GO!”
“I apologize son, but it is too late, I must do this, for you, and your children, and children's children. Oh yes..... you have such a life ahead of you!” and with that, the mass of paper-work surrounding Joe begins to swirl up in a whirlwind around him, all drawn inextricably into the black-hole of legal logic which is now lodged next to his heart. Ya, it sort of went down the wrong hole and is now lodged in his air passage. As he gags and chokes, the whirlwind of documentation begins to lift him into the air, he wheezes out towards you, “where I'm going, I... (cough cough,) no longer need the tyranny..... of air,” and with that, he disappears from sight, as you instantly feel the entire weight of crushing bureaucracy leave your back. It is over. You can feel the freedom returning to humanity. You drop to your knees and weep tears of pure joy. Which is the exact pose the security guard finds you in just in time to save you from a grim death of Hydro-sulfide poisoning. I guess the lack of oxygen had brought on some pretty intense hallucinations as Joe rolls around in a filthy pile of stock, grease, and broken paper, howling at the light bulb above, “I got you you cocksuckers! I sealed your hole good! Fuck that hole!”
“Jesus,” the friendly and diligent security guard mutters through his air supply mask. “Just look what happens when you don't force crazy old fuckers to retire at 65.”
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