Okama Majo rests comfortably on Fuzzy Wuzzy, his devious plan fulfilled. Heat back up to normal in his house — no need for exercise to generate warmth now. Cat litter cleaned and deodorized — no urine smell about the place. Wendy: gone. His similarly red topped store in the center of Kangerootown safe, phew!
And all because he switched around some of the language in his report to mayor Golden Jim, who passed it on to town council chair Newt for a final decision. Just a bit, and all from one sentence. It wasn’t that hot dogs from reporting companies in the referenced study contained 5 percent human DNA but instead that 5 percent of these reported *some* human DNA in their product, probably from workers’ hair or skin cells and so on. The words stayed exactly the same. He was just passing it along. If he gets caught he has what he feels is an air tight alibi of that it was someone *else’s* responsibility to proofread the document and make sure the words were in the right order.
Original sentence:
“5 percent of all reporting companies found human DNA in their hot dogs.”
Altered sentence:
“All reporting companies found 5 percent of human DNA in their hot dogs.”
Back to sleep after reviewing his alibi once more. Beloved warmth again. Makes him feel so lazy. Like a cat, he realizes. A sly, conniving cat. “Night night, Fuzzy.”
Sunklands 