Just a quick shout out to CieloCrimisi the most amazing unofficial beta out there.

Commander Trouble Kelp of the LEP was about to take his very first sip of his very first sim coffee of the day when his computer beeped.

After muttering a few choice words at the timing, he double clicked the flashing icon on the screen and waited for the message to appear. It had better not be those dwarfs from the LEP's café complaining that they didn't have enough vole curry again. He was at the point of sending a shuttle full of them to the Sahara and leaving them to bake.

Thankfully, it wasn't. As the message rotated and stretched to fill the screen Trouble saw that it was in fact from Major Ben Verr. It read:

Dear Commander Kelp,

As you may or may not be aware, the officers of Haven Correctional Facility have been the target of much mockery on the subject of our uniforms.

Trouble grinned slightly as he read this. It was in fact Foaly's fault that they were subject to this daily taunting from their colleagues. The uniform itself left a lot to be desired – shiny green with metallic tassels, but that usually wouldn't amount to anything other than some harassed wife complaining about how hard it was to clean tassels. Then one day, on one of his rare trips into the actual prison section of the LEP, Foaly had chanced upon one of them standing in the corridor and he had immediately burst into laughter. When asked to explain he had said: "They wear green, stand in a corner doing nothing, and no one pays any attention to them – pot plants!"

Naturally, the guards hated this with a passion. So, naturally, it had stuck fast. It didn't help that because of his little brother that there was now some serious stigma attached to any sort of plants.

Trouble shook his head, and returned his attention to the message in front of him.

We feel that this is unnecessary strife on our part, and would be most obliged if you would grant us permission to change our uniform to something slightly less amusing to the general public. This wouldn't cost the LEP anything, as all of us have put our own money towards this worthy cause. The simple changes we propose are as follows:

-Instead of the uniform being reflective, it will be changed to a matte material. This will allow officers the chance to blend into the shadows and observe the prisoners, rather than be blaringly obvious the moment they walk in the door.

-The tassels will be removed. These we feel are an unnecessary decoration and cost.

-The colour will be changed from green to brown.

Thank you for your time.

Yours sincerely,

Major Ben Verr

Trouble gave the entire thing a customary once over before composing his reply, approving the change. It didn't actually cost the LEP anything, and it was always better to stay on the good side of people who owned the keys to the most dangerous criminals' prison doors.

Major Ben Verr of the LEP was quietly sipping his sim coffee in his nice new brown uniform when he received the news.

A buff, low-IQ prison guard walked into his office, looking slightly confused. "Er, boss?" he asked.

Huffing at his interrupted coffee moment, Major Verr looked up. "What?"

The guard twisted the shirttails of his new brown uniform. Even irritated, Ben couldn't help but feel a jolt of pleasure at the look. No longer would he have to be taunted by various other LEP personnel, no longer would his wife call him a pot plant when she was angry with him, and no longer would he have to look at himself in the mirror with shame!

The guard shifted in his new brown boots. "Er, boss?" he said again.

Ben, caught up in happy thoughts, jerked back to the present. "What?"

"Well, ya' know that centaur?"

Ben scowled. Did he know that centaur. . .

"Well, ya' know wot 'es been callin' us?"

Major Verr's eyes widened as all manner of possibilities ran through his mind. He couldn't have. . . Not so soon! They had the new uniforms and everything! It was with an almost feverish haste he asked him,"What?"

The guard looked even more uncomfortable. "Well ya' know about that centaur. . ."

No I don't know you moron – that's why I'm asking you, Ben thought, rather unprofessionally. "Go on," he coaxed out loud, "What's he been saying?"

"Uhhhh. . ." Deviated from his train of thought by the question, the guard was taking a while to recover it. "Uhhhhh. . .Who?"

"The centaur!" Ben snapped. "What is he calling us?"

"Oh, yeah," the guard said ponderously. "The centaur. As I wos sayin' 'es gotta new name for us."

Ben Verr was strangling air. "What. Is. It?"

"Well, boss," the guard said slowly, "'Ya know the joke used to go, that we stood in the corner, doin' nuffin' an' no one looks at us an' we 'ad greeny uniforms like plants?"

"Yes! I do know!" Ben was not in the mood to be reminded.

"Well, now 'e says that we stand in the corner not doin' nuffin, no one pays any at-ten-tion to us and we wear brown."

"WHAT IS HE CALLING US?"

"Well boss," he said, finally getting to the point, "Now see wot he calls us, 'e calls us dead pot plants."

Somewhere, not so far away, a not-so-innocent centaur was watching this exchange with glee. He rubbed his hands. The expression on Verr's face was worth at least a million views on horsesense dot gnom.

According to my momma, this actually happened in South Africa.