Pope’eroni Holyonio proceeded quickly down the Hallway, stopping briefly to salute the flag out the window. He held the small case tightly against him as he made his way up the stairs, taking care to not drop it. He opened the door quickly, and rushed in to meet with Gaius, his leader. What he saw was most…concerning.

Gaius was sitting behind his desk, frantically scribbling with crayons on some paper. He seemed mad, his brow furrowed in some defiance.

“My lord?”

Gaius looked up angrily.

“All for naught! O Woe! Pope’eroni, you must help me, for I—yes, your humble lord, and indeed, a friend—have been stricken, stricken by a curse most foul!”

“What kind of curse?”

“A curse most foul!”

“Well, yes you said th—”

“Most foul indeed! I havc been stricken with a case of the Transcendentals—a curse of Hawthorne!”

“Yes.”

“O Woe! O perilous fate! O cruel and dire—”

“My lord, I have the…relic.”

Gaius stopped saying “O woe” and “O fate” and grew serious.

“Bring it here, post-haste! O how we must hurry if we do wish to succeed in our struggle– our valian–”

“Please open the box and stop speaking, Milord.”

Gaius opened the box, slowly, and as he did so, a great light shone forth. As he was being blinded, he reached forward and plucked the relic from its satin lining. He held it before him, and his face became one of anger and disgust.

“You brought me a spoon? You fool! You simple minded fool! O how I wish to silence your breaths,  slowly and most painfully!”