Supermadness

In the mood to take all before me, I flew downstairs and entered the dining room, where Sidney appeared at my shoulder wearing an immaculate waiter’s outfit, red carnation in his button hole and hair slicked back with pomade.
“Would sir prefer the larks tongue, or caviar vole-au-vents, this morning?” he mewled pitifully.
“You can stuff that for a bunch of soldiers” I replied tetchily, looking over his shoulder.
Behind him, the residents were all sat around the dining room dressed in shooting tweeds and plus fours, barking instructions in our direction.
“Hurry up, you slackers! We’ve got a bed to catch.”
“Who do you think you are? We’ve got our rights you know.”
“Step on it, or there’ll be an official complaint.”
“Chop! Chop!”
Seeing the monstrous meal re-heating machine vibrating in the corner, I had a flash of inspiration, and armed with my new superpowers I quickly reprogrammed the fan-assisted warmer to ‘turbo suck’. Pointing the machine towards the carping crowd, I opening the aluminium door and watched them all disappear into its welcoming bowels, each delivering a parting comment as they went:
“It’s too hot in here!”
“It’s too cold in here!”
“Where’s the juice?”
“I didn’t order this!”
“These chairs aren’t very comfortable!”
I then whisked the machine down to the postal area, and taking a large white address sticker from my utility belt, wrote:
Please deliver this urgently to –
The Workers’ Co-operative Community,
Somewhere in Wales.
http://www.windowsofmadness.co.uk

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