Screwtape wore his distant, cold, official business face. It was the face his overlings feared most. He sat in his throne chair at the end of the impossibly long table. His unfortunate overlings sat in ascending order of importance, transfixed in fear.
"I called you here, gentlemen, because we have issues to discuss," Screwtape said calmly. "Project Sugarloaf, a project you are all duty-bound to devote your best efforts to, is not going well." Screwtape paused to let his words sink in. His demons squirmed uncomfortably in their chairs. "In addition, monthly quotas are falling far -- FAR -- behind." Screwtape's iron mask dared his overlings to object, to offer excuses. None dared. "The gaming industry is not producing expected results. Divorce, alcoholism, addictions, domestic, child abuse -- all stagnant. In short, there is little progress on ANY front. I wish...I wish there was someone to blame," Screwtape sighed. "-- But all seem uniformly incompetent." Screwtape's deputies were puzzled. They didn't know if they should be relieved that their master had no one to blame. Screwtape gnashed his teeth. He wished those incompetents, Glubwart and Snakefoot, were at the meeting.
Screwtape stood up. He raised himself to his full height, towering over them all. He slowly looked left, then right. His overlings all held their collective breath. Without a word or warning, Screwtape opened his maw. A sheet of flame gushed out, devouring all the demons and furniture on his left. When the smoke subsided, Screwtape resumed his seat.
"I hope -- and EXPECT, that you will all try harder," he said quietly. "Don't disappoint me, gentlemen. This meeting is adjourned."
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