Mr. Crakeeter eyed Hans DeSmuh across the miles of hard oak desk which separated them.
"Hans, I want the contracts to toussle the hair of those damn birds," Crakeeter said with a tone of utter finality. "I want them more than anything else."
Hans shifted nervously. "As I've explained, sir, those birds have been extinct for many billions of years, if they ever existed at all. There are none left... they have no hair to toussle... I'm sorry, sir, there's simply nothing more I can do."
"Hans..." Crakeeter said sternly.
"Sir, I'm sorry. There is NOTHING I CAN DO!" Hans said.
"FIne then, you leave me no choice." Craketter pulled out a small black unit from one of several million desk drawers. The unit was no larger than a personal calculator, and it bore the logo of a Swedish flag in flames. "You're familiar with one of these, I trust?" Crakeeter asked as he displayed the unit to Hans. Hans' panic revealed he was well familiar with the awesome power the unit contained.
Dr. Jars Offogg had introduced the world to the new age of international terrorism. No longer were burdensome, time-consuming armies of terrorists or long, well-planned chains of explosions and murder neccessary. Dr. Offogg's Swedeath 2000 made international terrorism available in a handheld portable unit. "Finally, the death of millions of innocent Swedes is only a push of a button away," the unit's manual boasted, beneath a picture of a relieved- looking housewife. The instruction manual included a bit of Swedish history, including how Sweden had been a neutral country for over a century, and encouraged international development and social programs throughout the world. There was a section containing glossy pictures of innocent, happy Swedish children playing. Some even had dogs. It explained how nuclear devices were hidden underground throughout Sweden, ready to be activated as soon as any one user of the Swedeath 2000 pushed the button. Soon after it's introduction, everyone had one. So far, no-one had been willing to destroy the poor country.
"You wouldn't dare!" Hans shouted uncertainly.
"You force me to, if you won't get me those contracts. All those innocent, dead Swedes would have no choice but to blame you," Crakeeter explained.
"But it's impossible! Sir..."
"The contracts!" Crakeeter interrupted, his finger slowly descending towards the "Kill Sweden" button.
"Wait!" Hans yelled, thrusting some papers, a pen and a few long-haired birds across the desk towards Crakeeter. "Have them, just leave Sweden out of this!"
"Okay," said Crakeeter, happily tousseling.
Hans sighed in relief.
And then the world exploded.