Plays in the street as the cold wind blows

The top floor of a ten-story building in Angevine City, in the heart of Crumland, housed the office of the Prime Minister. The Prime Minister of Crumland was a dangerous position, subject to constant assassination attempts perpetrated by the disgruntled and adventurous. The ten-floor edifice in question often served as the focal point of such intrigue.

The nebbish building manager, though he valued protection, found himself at the mercy of budget restrictions. He decided to implement an electronic swipe-card system, which, though pricey as a one-time fee, would allow him to lay off every security guard. After four months, he'd recoup his original expense, and in a year he'd have saved a goodly sum. Assassins, he reasoned, would be unable to get past the unyielding turnstiles without proper identification.

Four days after the system was implemented, three assassins vaulted the turnstile, took the elevator to the top floor, and shot the Prime Minister fourteen times in the face. Because there were no security guards in the building, they managed to escape before the notoriously slow Angevine City Police arrived.

The next Prime Minister moved in the following day, and the nebbish building manager realized he'd have to take further steps for protection. He removed the turnstiles, hired one security guard, and built a chain link fence in the lobby. Only the guard could open the fence's single gate, and only when shown proper identification.

One week later, four assassins entered and told the guard they'd shoot him if he didn't open the gate. The guard complied, opened the gate, and was shot. The assassins took the elevator to the top floor and shot the Prime Minister forty-six times in the gut. Because the building's lone security guard was neutralized, the assassins escaped before the Angevine City Police could dispatch a car to the scene.

The next Prime Minister moved in after the weekend, and the nebbish building manager destroyed the chain link fence. In its stead, he had a large cement wall built in the lobby, ensuring that no assassins could pass through. Because the builders constructed the wall on a night when the Prime Minister was working late, he effectively isolated the new leader inside. For two weeks nobody could enter or leave, but the manager stuck obstinately to his new policy, arguing that at last the Prime Minister was safe. On the fifteenth day, the Prime Minister, on the verge of starvation, took the elevator to the second floor, jumped out the window, and survived with mere scrapes. He found a pay phone and dialed the Angevine City Police, who vowed to send a car. Unfortunately, ten assassins were tipped off, arrived before the precinct telephone operator remembered to report the call, and shot the Prime Minister eighty-nine times in the carotid artery.

The nebbish building manager had the wall destroyed with a wrecking ball, and the new Prime Minister moved in the following week. All security guards were re-hired, installed outside the leader's office, and ordered to shoot any person taking the elevator to the top floor, with no exceptions. On the second morning, the first security guard to arrive shot the rest of the security guards as they tried to exit the elevator, and then shot the Prime Minister, who had slept late. In the Angevine Medical Center, the Prime Minister made a slow recovery until sixteen assassins found his room and shot him three hundred and twenty-four times in the small intestine. The Police Department arrived on scene six days later, after getting severely lost in the city's labyrinthine streets.

The next Prime Minister moved in a month later, and the nebbish building manager, changing tactics, had flyers posted all across the city saying that the new leader was dead. This, he reasoned, would prevent any and all assassination attempts. The news was shown on all major stations, printed in every newspaper, and led each radio broadcast. The ubiquitous false report of the Prime Minister's death depressed the Prime Minister so much that he killed himself.

At his funeral, one hundred assassins disguised in priestly vestments shot him six thousand, eight hundred, sixty-four times in the adrenal gland. The police investigation began three months later, but stalled when nobody could find the proper grave.