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"And then of course, I started getting too much syrup on my PJs, so I had to take them off sloooowly-"

O5-8 interrupted. "As fascinating as it would be to listen to you try to turn that soft, sagging body into an object of erotic fixation, I think we're going to get back to the matter at hand. I'll ask you again, and no tales about "Waffle Time". What have you been doing since you left the site on the 8th, over 60 hours ago?" Sensing his ability to bullshit might not carry him through this, he tried again.

"Well, that's an incredible tale of mystery and wonder I call 'Lord Shittington Drops The Kids At The Pool'-" Clef winced as his superior's lips thinned significantly.

"And why are significant portions of Atlantic City, New Jersey, including the casino that happens to be the site of the last recorded activity on your credit card, on fire?"

Clef swallowed deeply. "I can promise this was vaguely work related."

"Is that 'work' in any way related to a document on your desk labeled 'My Master Gambling plan'?" O5-8 held up a forstalling hand at Dr. Clef, as he opened his mouth. "No, enough. It's my finding that you are in gross dereliction of your duties as Director of Site 19, and the follow restrictions are to be placed upon you-"