Commander Allen

A while back, Bryson and I had a lovely time picking out a plant for his desk. However, soon it was plagued by little fruit flies, who wandered though the office building, bothering the bosses, inconveniencing the accountant, lambasting the lawyer. Bug spray was only a minor relief. At last, the vice president informed him that the plant simply had to go.

Bryson emailed him in reply.


The chemical war has only recently begun on the beloved plant that shares our office. Since day one of chemical combat, there has been dramatic decrease in enemy flies in the area.

I can almost hear the screams of the dying foe:

"My wings are melting. . . I'm going blind. . . "
"All the children are dead. . . "
"Ahhhhhhh. . . How can we ever procreate?”

If this plant has to go all is lost! The rest of this week is all that is asked for the battle to be won. If by then we are not victorious then a white flag shall be drawn.

Please have a heart, support the cause and let there be life!

Eagerly awaiting your reply,

Commander Allen


Well, I thought it was funny.