chapter four

Mr. Black sat behind his neat mahogany desk within his antechamber and brooded. The work of an evil genius is never done, he mused. Over his head a plaque hung on the stark off white wall. “The work of an evil genius is never done.” read the inscription in gothic type. Now where is that flower man, he thought aloud? Where would I be if I were a flower man? Where would I be if I were the flower man with the secret of immortality and eternal love? Hmmmm.... Well screw love, where I be if I were the flower man with the secret of immortality? Where would I be? A-ha! he said aloud at last, loudly enough to startle his henchmen through the steel doorway that was shut to his antechambers. They eyed one another nervously and adjusted the zippers on the front of their pale green jumpsuits.
“Hell of a day, Larry,” one said to the other. Yep, chimed in Larry.