Thanks to:
SnowyFox: Yep, was in Studying the Unloved. Good eye! When will you send me the next chapters of Precious Memories???? and thanks for the review! :D
Krimzon 1: Your review made me and Lovepuff laugh out loud. Thanks! Poor guy... I don't think his luck will change, hehe.
Okay... enjoy! Also, there's a reason I'm loading this story before continuing The Trophy.... bwahaha.

he said. Marvin jumped onto the expensive zoomer and pulled it out of the hover zone. It rose gracefully, emitting soft purple clouds of perfumed exhaust, and turned its dashboard lights on.

Hello, Mr. Marvin, it cooed.

Uh. Hello? Marvin had been enjoying the padded, heated seat and fully insect-repelling windshield, but was unprepared for a zoomer that spoke.

Your destination, please?

Mar Memorial Stadium.

Yes sir. There was a pause. That's an interesting shirt, Mr. Marvin.

Thank you, spat Marvin. Do you have to talk to drive?

No, sir.

Then shut up.

Destiny blinked its lights in affirmative and glided along. Marvin leaned back slightly and enjoyed the ride. The city flew by below, and more than a few slummers looked up in jealousy at him. Destiny took turns expertly and never got within a centistandard of the walls, KGs, KGs in zoomers, slummers, slummers in zoomers, or randomly parked zoomers, or anything else that would cause any sort of damage which would result in the wrenching of Marvin's skeleton from his body by the Rent-A-Zoomer people.

Destiny played some relaxing music and assured him, with flashy dials and engine read ups, that everything was going smoothly. Marvin gratefully dozed off and dreamed of the joys of Snuggles and taxidermy. A half hour later he was woken by a gently strobing light and a slight cooling of the zoomer seat. he muttered.

Destiny blinked urgently.

What? Oh. Talk!

We've arrived, sir.

Great. Um, thanks. Marvin walked down the set of vanity stairs that extended from his seat to the ground. Go park yourself where no one will find you, he said.

With pleasure, sir, said Destiny, and quietly hummed to the lower parking levels of the Stadium.

Marvin swung his briefcase by the frayed handles and walked up the marble steps. He passed by the Mechanic's and was stopped by a scratchy voice.



Er, yes, hello, he replied.

Keira smiled. You look kind of... rough... this morning.



Keira looked like she wanted to say something comforting, but she was too busy trying stop her stomach from forcefully ejecting its contents in an upwards direction. So instead she waved, clapped a hand over her mouth, and ran behind the curtain.

Marvin sighed and took a right. Keira was usually very nice to him, the only one in the whole city, he guessed, so the shirt must be even worse than he'd thought. He felt faintly lucky that, by wearing it, he didn't have to actually look at it.

As usual, his password didn't register with the door. He waited and waited for the retired KG to lumber up from the archives, confirm that his pathetic ID card, complete with a picture of Marvin with his mouth open in a way that made him look especially moronic, was truly his pathetic ID card, and let him in.

Thanks, Slappy, muttered Marvin.

Slappy sent him a death look, augmented with pink eye in one eye and a white cataract film over the other. Both eyes seemed offended by the shirt.

You look well, said Marvin.

Slappy's meaty hands curled into angry fists. His pink eye twitched.

Have a nice day, said Marvin.

SUSPECT ENTERING SECTOR SIX! BE ADVISED, I'M ON FOOT! Slappy screamed. Marvin clapped his hands over his ears and ran for his office. The ex KG thundered after him, screaming more frightfully unclever KG quips.

Marvin kicked his office door open, whipped around, shut it, and locked the deadbolt, the ball and chain bolt, the hammer-attached-to-the-chicken bolt, and the doorknob. Slappy slammed into the door, howling, STAND YOUR GROUND!

Heaving a sigh of relief, and hoping that Gloria down the hall would soon come and distract Slappy with old war movies in the lounge, Marvin sat back in his chair. It used to be a gray swivel chair, but now had faded to a bilious grayish green. Unbeknownst to Marvin, the swivel mechanism had been rusting, layer by layer, over thirty years, and was just about to give way.

screamed Marvin as his chair gave way. He heaved himself up and glared at the grayish green remains. Stupid chair!

It glinted at him in a rather snotty, rusty way and collapsed further into itself. Marvin kicked the pieces into the corner, rubbed his foot, and kneeled down in front of his desk. He opened his briefcase, took out his file, and tried to concentrate.

WE NEED BACKUP!

Shut up, Slappy!



Marvin cradled his head in his hands until he heard Gloria's loud voice, come along, Slappy, you old powder puff. There's a snazzy remake vid of Mar's Last Stand in the lounge.

I was in that battle!

Yes, yes, I know...

Slappy and Gloria stomped away, the ball and chain lock fell off the door, and Marvin got a paper cut from the file he held. His upper right eyelid twitched, just once. Marvin took a deep breath, sucked his finger, and looked over the papers.

9.084.203485.583/BH
You need level Weasel Goat Clearance to view these papers.
Top Secret Tax Evasion and Loophole Strategies for the Baron.
Whereupon the slummers' 187K tax withholdings have been filed, the Baron is initially entitled to 25% of the non-refundable proceeds. If there happens to be a full moon on the day of tax collection, the day after tax collection, the day before tax collection, or any series of days at any point in a year where tax collection is taking place, then the Baron is entitled to 55% of both the refundable and non-refundable proceeds.

The Loophole Strategy continued on for a while. Marvin straightened his shoulders and underlined things of particular interest, in other words, nothing.

Half an hour later, the manager knocked on the door. Marvin undid all the locks and cracked it open a millistandard. he whispered.

What's going on in there? demanded the manager. He looked at Marvin suspiciously. Slappy's screaming about rebellion in the lounge.

Slappy always screams about rebellion in the lounge.

Yes, but today he's doing it with excess zeal. The manager turned one beady eye on Marvin. What did you do?

Nothing, sir.

You were late this morning, Marvin. Let me in, the manager stuck his foot into the door and wedged it open. His mouth opened in shock. You've destroyed company property! he said, pointing to the chair. He turned to reprimand Marvin and his managerial glare twisted into itself. What in bloody Metal Head blazes are you wearing?!

Nothing, sir. Well, not nothing. Worse than nothing, Marvin's hands shook. It's a work shirt, sir, that my wife got for half price, and-

Do you think this is a Sicklian Scamper Circus?? No wonder Slappy's smashing the lounge apart! Pink is the number one Irritation Instigation Color on the ex KG list! We have a strict dress code, Marvin!

Yes, sir, I know, but-

But whumpbees! The manager huffed himself up to an authoritative degree. I've been waiting for an opportunity to fire you, but now you've given me a better idea! You have been officially demoted!

But sir!

I'm switching your department of expertise to the Entertainment Archives!

Marvin stepped back, shocked.

Get your crap out of this office! You will report to your new post promptly within the hour! If I hear from the EA manager that you were late, I will terminate you from the Baron's Official Tax, Accounting, Finance and Entertainment Archives altogether!

Marvin's knees bent unexpectedly, and he fell face first to the floor. The manager laughed heartily, looked at the back of the shirt, gazed at the one inexplicable blue dot in the center thoughtfully, and left.

A low moan escaped Marvin's lips. He studied the knotted wooden floor for a second or two, then pulled himself up. Demoted, he thought. He looked around blearily at the walls, gazing at the posters of Tax Evasion Strategies and Loophole Physics. Entertainment Archives, he thought. His brain could barely register the horror.

The Entertainment Archives made the Tax Archives look like an intercontinental adventure in which the handsome hero has an exciting quest, a comedic side-kick, a beautiful girlfriend, dozens of damaging weapons, a million foes, a mysterious past and a far more mysterious future.

The Tax Archives made the Entertainment Archives look so dreadfully boring that there have only been two employees in the entire history of the department who hadn't committed suicide from the boredom.

The Entertainment Archives made Marvin wish that the Craptasticon had taken him with it in its fiery, propeller shattering end.

The only upside Marvin could see, which was rather difficult as he had to pull cat fur and a cute pink tulip button from his eye to see it, was that the Entertainment Archives paid their morbidly depressed employees rather well.

Perhaps, Marvin thought, he would be able to pay for renting Destiny. If he didn't die from the dust leaden, heart trembling, bowel unleashing, blood pressure dropping boredom of it all.

Perhaps he'd be able to move out of his house, away from his darling family, out of the slums, away from his darling family, out of Haven, far, far away from his darling family, and spend his free time tuning up Destiny.

Perhaps.

But, knowing how his luck ran, and that it usually ran with the Bad sort, Marvin didn't think so.

Feeling extremely dejected, Marvin pushed himself off the floor, gathered his things, and exited his office.

Mwahaha... his life just keeps getting worse, don't it? Please review! Especially if any of this made you laugh. You must! Thank youuu. :)