"Tell me again why we're having this meeting…", Mavrik asked as he adjusted his fedora for the dozenth time since entering the boardroom. "Smider wants to hold an inspirational meeting…. Say a few words to instill our confidence in him. And McGoogan wants to know if his fish stock is depleting or is his fish tank getting larger.", replied Suede. "I tink tha' tank is getin' bigger!", growled Asmo behind a mouthful of ice, which he crunched noisily. He poked a jagged claw back into the pitcher of water and fished around for another ice-cube. The murky water made it apparent that Asmo didn't care for handsoap. Suede and Mavrik dismissed the speculations of the giant Orc and resumed their craps game on the boardroom table.

At the breakfast cart, Markg was quickly losing a bet with Cswilson. A layer of white powder covered both their chins as they crammed jelly-filleds into their mouths. Cs squirted the last jelly into his mouth and emitted a tremendous belch that temporarily filled the air with icing sugar. Reluctantly, Markg fished in his pocket for a handkerchief and the keys to his Bentley. The keys fell into CS massive hand. He shoved the keys into his pocket with at least six other key rings he had obtained that morning.

"So… do you have any complete outfits?", Reaper asked Gungho as he inconspicuously peered passed a preening owl to gaze at Gungho's ample bosom. The sound of unsheathed steel rang in the room as Reaper toppled over in his chair. A lock of dark hair scattered on the floor. The owl, sensing her master's fury, hopped from the table and landed on Reaper's chest. It's claws played into his tunic, locating a vital artery below Reaper's ribcage. The owl turned to Gungho and gave her an inquisitive hoot. "Not today Lambkins", said Gungho. She produced a strip of meat, from no apparent pocket, and tossed it on Reaper's cheek. The owl snapped the piece off his face and returned to the table to resume its search for mites.

SickPuppy and McGoogan, disappointed that the conflict had ended so prematurely, returned their attention to the sketch of a lumber truck that SickPuppy was drawing. McGoogan scratched his head. "I do not a get it SickPuppy…..Where do ye mount the cannon?" SickPuppy sat back in his chair, "It's a goddamned truck you halfwit! You don't put a f**king cannon on it! You put logs on it!", SickPuppy shouted. McGoogan turned to SickPuppy, balling his hands into shaking fists. As he shifted, his #7 medal caught the sunlight, causing it to glitter. Asmo grinned and began to reach across the table to capture the shiny object. A sap crashed down on his hand. Asmo yelped and turned towards his assailant.

"You remember what happened the last time….?", Glynis said as he waved the sap at Asmo. "Where the f**k is our esteemed High Lord Fuk Wad anyway? " shouted Glynis to no one in particular. He stood up briskly, sending his chair onto it's back. It clattered it's surprise and rolled dejectedly onto it's side. Glynis marched to the console located at the head of the table and thumbed a button. Suddenly, an electric charge raced through the surrounding chairs. The clan leaped from their seats. The jolt caused several fillings to fall out of McGoogan's mouth.

"Ahhh now look what ye gone and done!", McGoogan exclaimed as he picked up the bits of lead. At that moment, the door to the boardroom opened. Dressed in the finest of Chinese silks, Smider strode up to Glynis. "Don't touch that!" snapped Smider. With a slight of hand, he produced a Cuban-rolled cigar from behind Glynis' ear. With his other hand, he produced a flame, seemingly from Glynis' breast pocket. He drew in pensively. "Now sit down old master…", said Smider with a sly grin. Tendrils of smoke escaped the corners of his mouth. Glynis snorted and slid his side-arm from it's holster. The muzzle was shaped as a phallus. Glynis peered down the barrel and set the gun down beside the console. He turned and walked slowly to the back of the room, giving his forlorn chair a nudge with his toe as he passed. He approached the breakfast cart and selected a bottle of Labatts' Blue. He wiped off it's white shroud and downed it's contents.

The clan's silence was broken by the B Flat note of a trombone. Asmo barked a laugh in appreciation of the imitation as Cswilson fanned his musical contribution into the air, which at this moment, was growing thick with cigar smoke. "Right then!" Smider snapped. "Sergeant! Could you start things off by reading the minutes of the last meeting.

"Yes Sir!" McGoogan barked. He stood up and tugged at his kilt ( a souvenir from the Great Edinburough Cattle Rape of 1975…but that's another story ) and shuffled a sheaf of papers. More than two of the sheets were crisp and brown and smelled strongly of stale whisky. "Well, let's see…. Ok! We began by watching Glynis pull his penis gun out and place about where it is now. Except it was on the other side of the console." McGoogan paused and shifted to his other foot. His free hand fell below his belt where it absently performed a routine check on position and completeness. "Then Gungho announced that she required additional funds to continue her ongoing recruitment of strong young men who were making themselves known on the battlefield. Mavrik then accused her of requiring additional funds to maintain her smack habit and fornication with strong young men who were hung no less than 2/3 greater than the average man. AT that point Lambkins took to the air and plunged down on Mavrik. The bird in flight sparked markg to cry out 'Lookit the f**kin' pig!' Apparently the attacking owl triggered an acid flashback from a trip markg had at a Pink Floyd concert. Markg then exclaimed that the walls were breathing and that Suede had transformed into Erro Flynn clad in an SS uniform. He then tackled SickPuppy out of his chair. The action revealed that SickPuppy had managed to remove his trousers at some point after taking his seat. Reaper then questioned the absence of trousers. SickPuppy replied that he never had any to begin with and would Reaper mind his own f**king business. Reaper took exception and threw Suede's 'Big Book of Map Starts' at the tangle that was SickPuppy and markg. Following this, Cswilson, looking rather dismayed, stood up, announced that the meeting was adjourned and cast the breakfast cart out of the window. We concluded the meeting with prayer circle and Smider signing a purchase requisition for a new breakfast cart, a carafe and a new Ragtop Triumph, as her previous one had attained a used breakfast cart for a hood ornament." McGoogan shuffled the papers once again and sat down. #7 thumped against his chest.

"Right. Thank you Sergeant." Smiled Smider as he adjusted the silk scarf around his neck. His eyes shifted to the breakfast cart to reassure himself that the cart was firmly anchored to the floor. Glynis, who was leaning against the cart, noticed Smider's line of sight and deftly extended his middle finger. Smider glanced around the room at the various glares and glassy stares. Asmo had drifted off. An admirable string of drool hung from his lower lip. It looked as though it would shortly reach his lap. Smider's review of his troops paused when his gaze was met by Reaper's. A glint sparkled in Reaper's eyes as a knowing grin spread across his lips.

"Right!" Smider exclaimed. "Right! Well….The reason I have called this meeting today is to announce the formation of an elite unit comprised of myself, Suede and Reaper. We'll be responsible for taking on the difficult clans. Congratulations Reaper. Suede." Mavrik piped up, "What are the rest of us to do then?" "Well," Smider began, " Word has it that the Jesus Freakz would like to have us another go. Malum squad is getting quite strong….why just last week they discovered that Patriots fire back! That and you can bathe in the glory of my greatness." "I think you're playing us all for patsies!" shouted SickPuppy. "Yeah!" chorused several other members. The soft click of guns being unholstered sounded around the room. Smider's hand slowly crept towards the console. Without taking his eyes off the disgruntled clan, he pushed the button closest to his index finger. "Spanish Flea" began to play from the ceiling speakers. "He was going for the shock button!!!!" someone shouted.

A Labatts' bottle crashed into the wall behind Smider. A half-eaten peach bounced off Smider's shoulder and joined the shards of brown glass on the floor. Smider looked at the stain in horror. He made no mistake of it this time. He slammed his hand down on the console. A tremendous bolt of electricity surged through the chairs catapulting some members into the air. A sharp "snap" resounded and a cloud of smoke filled the area where Smider had stood only moments ago. In the ensuing chaos, Cswilson gripped the breakfast cart. Finding it firmly fastened, he instead gripped Glynis and threw him at the window. The new shock-proof glass arrested Glynis flight and repelled him into Asmo. Asmo, who was now standing at this point, fell forward, axed raised. The razor-sharp, orkish steel fell into the boardroom table, not before grazing Gungho's shoulder, severing a crucial strap, thereby releasing Gungho from the clothing that chaffed her so.

The table erupted into an explosion of splinters. What was really a needle of wood entering McGoogan's temple, was mistaken for a surge of bezerker adrenaline. Ignoring all impulses to join the fray, McGoogan hastily scratched out a purchase requisition form before crashing a chair over Cswilson's head.

THE END