Mr Ormal is on his way to swork again.
Being a good Ormalcy citizen, he doesn’t use the plathway.
Instead, Mr Ormal crosses over the rwoad and back again to the doorschlep of the Phactory. The same Plodiceman he talked to before is waiting there.
The Plodiceman looks scowly, all blangery in his starched and slaughtery shirp and daggerfull pants. [Mr Ormal suddenly pictures the faces of the Popawomps, and thinks how much he wants to be stitting in his plark, watching their squishy floxity faces].
“Hullo there!” sais Mr Ormal. “We talked yesterday!”
“Ormacly Citizen 91101, I’m informing you that your swork permit for making flops at the Tovine Phactory has been revoked.”
Mr Ormal blinx.
“What?” sais Mr Ormal.
“You must leave immediately.” sais the Plodiceman.
“Why?” sais Mr Ormal.
“Because you have been told by me that you have to.” sais the Plodiceman.
“Oh. Right.” Sais Mr Ormal.
Mr Ormal, careful to cross the rwoad, makes his way back home.