EXIT INTERVIEW
2.
“Welcome to Annex Three!” a young beaver in the livery of the King’s Hunstmen told Yerzle as he entered the foyer. “How may I be of service to you?” Yerzle brushed the last of the cobwebs from behind his left ear and limped over to the beaver’s desk.
“That’s a nasty limp you’ve got there,” the clerk said.
“You need to have your stairs looked at,” Yerzle said. “They collapsed as soon as I stepped on them. That’s how I twisted my ankle.”
“That’s not a bug, sir, that’s a feature. The stairs collapse into a slide in order to provide efficient transport to these lower levels.”
“So, Annexes One and Two are above you? The floor above this one was waist-deep in apple cores, fish carcasses, and corn cobs. And the floor beneath it all was covered in honey or something. It was sticky.”
“Knowing Annex Two, it was ‘or something.’ And I wondered what that smell was! Those jokers upstairs! You gotta love ‘em!”
“The entrance to this level was a secret door!”
“We are Annex Three, after all.”
Yerzle began to respond, then thought better of it. He decided to approach from a different angle. “And just what is that?” he asked. “I’d never heard of you, before today.”
The beaver winked and laid a finger aside his snout. “Ah, sir, that’s the whole purpose of Annex Three!”
Yerzle waited for the clerk to continue, but he remained silent, his hands folded primly atop his desk and a broad grin across his face. The fox decided he didn’t really care what Annex Three was for, as long as it got him to his new post. “I’ve been assigned to Bureau 13, and I was told to first report here, after which you would tell me where to go.”
“Bureau 13?” the clerk asked brightly. “Ah, of course. You have a goldenrod sheet?” Yerzle handed the paper the First Sergeant had given to him over to the beaver, who began reading it.
“It didn’t make much sense to me,” Yerzle said.
“Well, it wouldn’t, to you.”
Yerzle waited as the beaver read the sheet, thoughtfully tapping his prominent incisors and muttering to himself. Finally, the clerk folded the goldenrod sheet and placed it to one side. He drew a clean sheet of high-quality vellum from one drawer of his desk and an inkwell and quill pen from another. Dipping the pen into the ink, he wrote furiously upon the vellum for a few moments, then blotted the still-wet ink with his shirt sleeve. Returning the inkwell and pen to their drawer, he then drew out two stamps. He used one upon the vellum, which he then folded into thirds. The second was a wax stamp, which he used to seal the folded vellum.
“These are your new orders,” he said, handing the vellum to Yerzle. “Don’t open them until you actually enter Bureau 13. That’s very important; if you open them before your reach the Bureau, it will threaten the status of your new assignment.”
Yerzle eagerly accepted the letter. “I won’t even think of opening them until I get there!” he said excitedly. “I need to be at the top of my game to impress my new officers! Thanks!”
“Of course you do,” the clerk said as Yerzle dashed from the office, his limp apparently forgotten. “Good luck with that.”
The beaver winked and laid a finger aside his snout. “Ah, sir, that’s the whole purpose of Annex Three!”
Yerzle waited for the clerk to continue, but he remained silent, his hands folded primly atop his desk and a broad grin across his face. The fox decided he didn’t really care what Annex Three was for, as long as it got him to his new post. “I’ve been assigned to Bureau 13, and I was told to first report here, after which you would tell me where to go.”
“Bureau 13?” the clerk asked brightly. “Ah, of course. You have a goldenrod sheet?” Yerzle handed the paper the First Sergeant had given to him over to the beaver, who began reading it.
“It didn’t make much sense to me,” Yerzle said.
“Well, it wouldn’t, to you.”
Yerzle waited as the beaver read the sheet, thoughtfully tapping his prominent incisors and muttering to himself. Finally, the clerk folded the goldenrod sheet and placed it to one side. He drew a clean sheet of high-quality vellum from one drawer of his desk and an inkwell and quill pen from another. Dipping the pen into the ink, he wrote furiously upon the vellum for a few moments, then blotted the still-wet ink with his shirt sleeve. Returning the inkwell and pen to their drawer, he then drew out two stamps. He used one upon the vellum, which he then folded into thirds. The second was a wax stamp, which he used to seal the folded vellum.
“These are your new orders,” he said, handing the vellum to Yerzle. “Don’t open them until you actually enter Bureau 13. That’s very important; if you open them before your reach the Bureau, it will threaten the status of your new assignment.”
Yerzle eagerly accepted the letter. “I won’t even think of opening them until I get there!” he said excitedly. “I need to be at the top of my game to impress my new officers! Thanks!”
“Of course you do,” the clerk said as Yerzle dashed from the office, his limp apparently forgotten. “Good luck with that.”
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