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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Almost Report #7, Unlucky Number Seven


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"Dahn danant naaaaAAAAN, Dunununt!"

 

Clear channels across the Pen fizzle in and out of focus until the image of Wyvern sitting at his pirate broadcasting table seizes the various screens. Wyvern stops picking at his snout as the cameras turn in his direction, and wipes the ash on a parrot bobblehead set up next to his sparse-looking pile of reports. The head of the parrot squacks *Buy Almost Dragonic, Buy Almost Dragonic* as it bobbles back and forth.

 

"Greetingsss, and welcome to another Almost Report." Wyvern flexes his claws and stares towards the cameras. "In this evening'sss headlines: cute pennite gals everywhere have seemed to succumb to a recent epidemic known as "Almostdragonophobia," symptoms of which include extreme shyness when it comes to interning on Almost Dragonic talk showsss. Since the current resssponse amounts to one brave soul ssstill potentially interested (but unavailable at the moment), and one rather outlandish set of photographs of Mardrax with feminine ponytails, I'm afraid that the show mussst currently go on without internship. Alassss... perhapsss one day you sexy ladies will wake up and smell the curly onion cheese doodles."

 

Wyvern sighs and pulls a sheet of paper from his tabletop. A box showing a lizardman newsreporter standing in the center of a battlefield appears in the righthand corner of the screen.

 

"Meanwhile, the war of Pen politics continues to rage on in the Minssstrel Hall." Wyvern hisses and tosses the current report to the side. "Since the sssubject tends to leave me tongue-tied, here's Trog Underlinguistic with a report from the frontlines. Trog?"

 

The lizardman featured in the live action newsfootage box adjusts his Almost Dragonic Brand Origami Combat Helmet.™ Trog raises a khaki microphone and speaks into it with a distinctly English accent.

 

"Thank you, Lord Wyvern. I am standing here on the threshold of the Mighty Pen Rank Review Vote, where an eerie silence signals a ceasefire between harsh exchanges of words. Along the threads perimeters, concerned voters pray for closure amidst the debris, longing for deadlines or results. Other pennites, wounded or scarred from the debacles, flee in search of solace, under the impression that they are no longer wanted or needed, wallowing in their own self-pity. To what end shall justice be served? Through what means sha-"

 

"Boooorrrrrriiiiinnnnnnggggg!" Wyvern snaps a claw, and the box in the upper righthand corner goes black. "Remind me to get a new sub-reporter without an English accent, that sssubject's boring enough to listen to as it is."

 

Wyvern pulls a final sheet of paper from beside the parrot bobblehead, deliberatly knocking its head back and forth a couple of times in the process.

 

"To finish this evening'sss reporting *Buy Almost Dragonic, Buy Almost Dragonic*, I just wanted to remind my fellow pennitesss *Buy Almost Dragonic, Buy Almost Dragonic* to mail me any news items they might want mentioned on these Monday night hissy fits. Just remember *Buy Almost Dragonic, Buy Almost Dragonic* to include a large geld donation with your request unless you want your news item publically mocked, asss we tend to do on this little program. Include some info on a good-looking intern that fits my requirements, and I might even sssponsor your news item on the show two nights straight. What can I say, I'm lonely lil' liza-"

 

Static.

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