Leave It To Bieber: Personal Services Chapter 3

     Justin Bieber had been annoying and losing fans for the last few years. He had grown up to be quite a narcissistic, selfish, greedy young man. In preparation for his latest tour, he fired his manager, and replaced him with his father, Jeremy. Jeremy and Justin had but two things in common. They both loved tattoos, and they both loved money! Justin gave Jeremy the job because he knew that as a family member, that Jeremy would come cheaper than the going rate of 20% for a star of Justin’s stature. In fact, the contract he had his father sign called for a rate of only 5%!

     But Jeremy was no fool. At his urging, Justin had written out a will, leaving his fortune and all future earnings to his father in the event of his death. Justin had already started his latest world tour, and was getting ready to leave the country. Jeremy was as greedy as his son, and was determined to get access to his son’s money. He was relaxing at Justin’s home one evening, when he saw a commercial on the home theater system for Coldiani Execution Services. He wrote down the address, and vowed to call on them the next morning!

     The next morning, at 9 am sharp, Jeremy walked in the door to Coldiani Execution Services, and requested to speak privately with John Coldiani. The receptionist asked for his name, and he said “Jeremy Bieber”.

     He told me who was outside, and I was intrigued. “Show the gentleman in, please.”

     Jeremy entered the office, and I shook his hand. “Mr. Bieber, you have a very unusual name. I don’t suppose you are related to Justin Bieber?”

     “As a matter of fact, Justin is my son!”

     “My, you must be very proud of him!”

     “He’s an out of control brat, who thinks only of himself!”

     “My, those are very harsh words coming from his own father! Still, I can’t say that I disagree. He does seem to be incorrigible! But enough pleasantries, you have come here seeking my services. What is the name of the expendable condemned person?”

     “Justin Bieber!”

     “I’m sorry, you must have misunderstood me. I didn’t ask for your son’s name, I asked who you were paying to have executed.”

     “I didn’t misunderstand anything! I want you to execute my son, Justin Bieber!”

     “Normally, our most expensive package is $30,000. However, sir, you realize that executing a famous celebrity carries additional risks, so the fee must be greater!”

     “How much would you charge?”

     “Well, according to my research, your son has a net worth of $160 million. For celebrities, I charge a 10% fee, so to execute your son, the fee will be $16 million.”

     “That seems awfully steep!”

     “Take it or leave it. If you don’t like the price, the door is right behind you. But you should realize that you’ll make that fee up a hundredfold in the next year from all the residuals.”

      “You do have a point, sir. OK, I agree to the fee. Now, when will it happen and what method will you use to rid the world and me of that spoiled brat?”

     “First, I need to know where I can find your son.”

     “Oh, right now he’s on a world tour for his new album. It’s titled, “Show Me The Money!”

     “Where will he be next week?”

     “Let me check. Oh, yes! He’s got one final stop on the US leg of his tour right here in LA! Then he flies out to Sydney, Australia.”

     “Excellent! By the way, I understand your son turns 21 next week.”

     “Yes, he does. His birthday is March 1. But what does that have to do with anything?”

     “Simply this. On March 1, you will bring your son to a new, trendy nightclub, The Cock’s Tail. There we will throw a private party in his honor, and Justin will have his first legal drink!”

     “I’ve never heard of that club?”

     “You wouldn’t have. I am the owner and it’s a VERY private club! Your job, should you desire to use my services, is to have your son there precisely at one minute after midnight. Leave the rest to me.”

     “How many guests will be there?”

      “It will be a very intimate gathering, but tell your son that the top movers and shakers in the music industry will be there. Also, only you and your son are to attend. No other family, friends or bodyguards.”

      “But Justin never goes anywhere without his bodyguards, especially after the attempt on his life uncovered just last year.”

       “Tell Justin that you have personally examined and vetted the guest list. Plus you can remind your son that the fewer people there, the wilder he can get without repercussions. And if it helps, tell him that the club will supply three very top-notch bodyguards plus a limousine and chauffeur to and from the club.”

       “But I don’t even know who the guests are!”

       “That is necessary for my plan to work. But Justin does NOT know that, nor should he!”

        “Very well, but what exactly is your plan?”

     “My dear sir! That must remain my secret. Just like any artist, I demand that those I contract with give me their complete trust!”                                                                                                                                                

     “Yes, sir! Is there a contract?”

     “Yes, let me text my secretary, and he’ll bring it right in!”

     I sent the following text on my phone. “Robert, please bring me in a contract for Mr. Bieber to sign. The fee will be $16 million and be sure and include clauses 23 a and b.”

     Robert replied, “Are you sure you texted the right message? Clause 23 a makes you his heir, as long as he dies within the year, and 23 b grants you permission to execute him, as well as the contracted condemned.”

     I then texted back, “Robert, you are my secretary. Please do as you are told, unless you would like to join the Biebers as expendable!”

    Without further adieu, Robert brought in the contract.

    “Here you go, Mr. Bieber. If you will just sign on the last page, and naturally, I will need to collect the fee upfront.”

   “You need the entire fee upfront? I was hoping to pay you half now, and half when the contract is fulfilled.”

    “I am afraid that is not possible. The law that covers my work requires that all fees be paid upfront. Otherwise, clients might have me execute someone without paying in full, causing me to expend more money to find the client. Also, should the fee not be paid, the law allows me to execute the client as well as the intended condemned. I trust you are prepared to pay. Your life depends upon it!”

    “Very well. Will a personal check do?”

    “Normally, yes, but with a fee of this amount, I must insist on cash!”

    “Well, I don’t go walking around with $16 million on me. What can we do now?”

    “Do you have access to that amount at your mansion?”

    “Yes.”

    “Very well, I shall accompany you to your mansion where you will pay the fee.”

    I then accompanied Jeremy Bieber to his mansion, bringing along two of my best guards, just in case Mr. Bieber should change his mind about paying my fee. We pulled into his large driveway, and made our way to the main house. Mr. Bieber led us to the library, where he went to a shelf that concealed a large wall safe. He opened the safe, removed $16 million and paid the fee. My guards and I returned to the office, after letting Jeremy know that we would be expecting him and Justin at the Cock’s Tail.

     Three days later, my chauffeured limousine drove up to the Bieber estate, with three of my best guards inside just in case Mr. Bieber had a change of heart and decided he didn’t want to join us. All three were former NFL defensive linemen who had sent several quarterbacks to early retirement. Bill was 6’5” and 300 pounds. Jeff was 6’6” and 350 and Chuck was even bigger, 6’7” and 400 pounds of pure muscle.

      I needn’t have worried. Jeremy had dollar signs in his head, and was only too happy to accompany us. Justin was so impressed with the limousine that he didn’t even question when it headed into a very unsavory part of Los Angeles.

    They arrived at an old abandoned warehouse that I owned. Justin became concerned, and asked the driver why we were stopping here.

      “This is the Cock’s Tail! It’s one of the new variety of pop-up nightclubs you’ve heard about. And you’re in luck! When the boss found out that Justin Bieber wanted a private 21^st birthday party, he closed the club, so that you and your dad can have the place to yourself.”

      “Yeah, I’ve heard of places like this. And with no paparazzi around, I can really let it all hang out!”

      “I think the boss is counting on that, Sir!”

      With that, the bodyguards escorted Justin and his dad into the warehouse. Justin looked up in awe at the sheer size of the warehouse, his only complaint being that dust was dirtying his Armani suit. A few minutes later, they came to a door with the name, Cock’s Tail, on it, and a logo of the rear view of a chicken.

      Bill opened the door, and Jeff and Chuck led Justin and his dad into the room. I greeted them warmly, and led them to a table. There were five other tables set up, all of them with very distinguished looking gentlemen. Justin and his dad may have thought they were music industry bigwigs, but in reality, they were members of my staff, there to assist me in carrying out the capture and execution of the young brat!

      I approached their table, and asked them what they would like to drink. It was exactly one minute past midnight, so this would be Justin’s first legal drink.

      Justin surprised me with his request. “I’d like a bottle of Dom Perignon Rosé 1959, please!”

      “Sir, are you aware that is a VERY rare vintage, with a single bottle costing over $84,000?

       “You bet I’m aware of it! But if this dump really is such a classy place, you’ll have it in your cellar! Now get me my champagne, and be quick about it!”

        I ignored his insulting language; I figured that there would be plenty of time to pay him back later. “Yes sir, I will bring it right out!”

        Fortunately, I have a vast collection of champagne labels, including that of Dom Perignon Rosé 1959. It was child’s play to add the label to that of a cheap house brand of champagne. Then I took a syringe, and added a large dose of a sleeping medication. I happily returned to the table with two champagne glasses, and the bottle of champagne.

        “Here we are, gentlemen. Allow me to serve you.”

        With that, I popped the cork and decanted the champagne into the two glasses. Justin’s father then toasted Justin, wishing him a long and prosperous life and career. I smiled and moved to the table the bodyguards were seated at.

       “In about five minutes, less if they drink more than one glass of that champagne, both of our guests will pass out at their table. Once they do, I need the three of you to take them to the cellar, and lock them in the cell down there. And make sure that they’re securely bound!”

       “No problem, boss. You can count on us!”

        I continued my rounds, but kept my eye on the Bieber table. Both father and son were greedily downing the drugged champagne. A few minutes later, as I passed by their table, Justin looked up at me in a drunken stupor.

         “Hey, asshole! Did you put something in our champagne? Both dad and I are really groggy!”

         “That is why I was hesitant to serve it to you, sir. Since today is your 21^st birthday, I figured that you would have difficulty handling such a fine vintage.”

          Justin looked up at me in anger, but before he could make further protests, both he and his father collapsed face down on the table, totally out cold! Immediately, my three guards sprung into action. Jeff flung Mr. Bieber over his shoulder, and Chuck had the honor of carrying our tattooed young superstar. Bill led the way, and I followed the procession down to the cellar, and the jail cell that I’d acquired from an old movie set. The cell was quite large, with the usual bars on the front. Each wall was solid concrete with 4 eyebolts in each side wall, each fitted with a short chain and shackle in order to restrain a man at both the wrists and ankles. The chain allowed enough movement for the prisoner to move a few feet to a hole in the floor, which acted as a toilet. First, I had the guards strip both men naked, a treat that they both enjoyed! Then, I had Jeff shackle Mr. Bieber to the right hand wall, while Chuck shackled Justin to the left hand wall. This ensured that while they could see each other, and quite possibly scream insults at each other, there was no way that they could do any physical harm to each other. I wanted that happy endeavor to be mine alone! Once my guards had them secure, I ordered them to leave the cell, but wait right outside in case they were needed. I, meanwhile, remained seated in a small but comfortable chair in the dead center of the cell, as we waited patiently for our latest guests to awaken.

     The sleeping draught was a short-duration drug. It lasted long enough for me to complete the prisoners’ capture, and about an hour later they both awoke to their new reality. As they shook the cobwebs from their heads, they both shouted out in unison, “What the fuck is going on?”

      Before I could answer, Mr. Bieber looked at me and asked, “What’s up, Coldiani? Why am I bound naked in this cell with my son?”

     Justin may have been a vain young man, but he immediately caught on to the phrasing of his father’s question. “Dad, you know this guy? What the hell’s going on?”

     “Yes, Mr. Bieber, tell your son what the hell is going on! Tell him how you paid me to both capture and execute him!”

     “Execute me! I’m your son! We make millions of dollars! Why on earth would you want me executed?”

     “Justin, my understanding is that you recently wrote out your will, and in it named your father as your sole beneficiary. Are you aware that once an artist of your stature dies, that their music catalog, now sadly complete, grows by leaps and bounds. Now, does that answer your question as to why your father would wish you dead?”

     “It sure does! Why, you greedy bastard! Paying to have your own son killed? Hey, Coldiani, I do have one question. If my dear old dad paid for my death, who paid for his?”

     “Yeah, Coldiani, why the fuck am I here? You better release me! My lawyers will be all over you!”

     “Oh, I doubt that, Mr. Bieber! Especially when I point out to them that YOU signed your own death warrant!”

     “What the fuck are you talking about, Coldiani? The contract I signed was for my bratty kid’s execution, not mine!”

     “Mr. Bieber, like most greedy men, you are so anxious for the deed to happen that you don’t read what you signed. If you had, you would have seen clauses 23a and 23b!”

      “23a and 23b, what was in those clauses?”

      “Clause 23a names me as your sole heir and beneficiary, so long as your death occurs within one year of your signing the contract. It also renders null and void all previous wills and bequests. As to clause 23b, in it you agree to be executed alongside your son. Believe me, sir, it is all legal and in black and white.”

     “Wow, dad, he really got you good! But how do you expect to get away with this, Coldiani? How will you explain my disappearance?”

      “Are you not familiar with the expendability laws, Justin? Once someone declares a person, famous or unknown, as expendable, and paid a fee for his or her execution, the state has the duty to carry out that execution. My company is an agency of the state, whose sole purpose is to execute those deemed expendable. Even as we speak, the media has announced to the world that you and your father have been taken as expendable. The world tour has been cancelled, and naturally those holding tickets will have their monies refunded, unless they care to transfer their tickets to your pay-per-view executions.”

     “Pay-per-view executions? You mean our deaths are to be done in public?”

     “Yes, Justin, my vain young fool. Your deaths will be witnessed by your not so adoring fans!”

     “But you can’t kill me! I’m JUSTIN BIEBER!!!!!”

     “And now you’re nothing! Trust me, my young friend. One week from today, both you and your not so devoted father will both be executed! A week or two later and you will both be forgotten. And don’t be too hard on your dad. Since very few sons die before their parents, the odds were that he’d never see a dime of your estate. He just wanted to level the playing field, as it were. And now, I’m tired! I’m going to bed. Sleep well, if you can”.  I then walked out, and headed for the comfort of my bed, leaving my three guards to ensure that the condemned remained my prisoners.

     I returned the next morning, fully rested and looking forward to a rewarding day at work. I noticed that the guards had started IV’s into both of the Biebers arms. The restraints prevented them feeding themselves and I didn’t want them to starve to death.  The IV’s were an ideal method of forced feeding!

    I asked Chuck how the night had went.

    “Boss, they were up half the night screaming and cursing at each other. The old man finally nodded off about 4am, and his son about an hour later. Must be uncomfortable as hell chained standing up like that and trying to sleep!”

     “Chuck, the comfort of our prisoners is none of your concern! All you need to worry about is that they live out the week leading up to their executions. Otherwise, I may be forced to find someone else expendable and execute him in their places! Do I make myself clear?”

     “Yes, sir, boss! I’ll make sure they’re alive on that day!”

     “Excellent! Now, do you have the milking machine ready?”

     “Yes, boss. It’s just down the hall.”

     “Did you make the adjustments to it that I requested?”

     “Yes! We removed the collecting basin, so that as it collects it will drain out of the hole in center of the cell and then be piped into the furnace in the basement of this building, where it will be utterly destroyed. And there are two tubes, sized to fit each man’s penis. They’re motorized, to stimulate their cocks.”

     “GOOD! Now you and the other guards get the machine and bring it into the cell. I want them hooked up within the hour!”

     Chuck and the other guards returned about five minutes later with the milking machine. I unlocked the cell, and we all brought it to the center of the cell. I then ordered my guards to awaken my guests. A couple well-placed fists to the abdomen and both men were wide-awake for the start of the festivities.

     Justin grunted, “What the hell was that for? Hitting me right in the six-pack!”

     “We needed you awake so that I could explain this little beauty to both of you. These tubes will be attached to your dicks. I will then throw this switch, which will cause the motors in the tubes to vibrate, thus masturbating you. As you shoot your cum, it will travel to the machine through the tubing, and under normal circumstances would be collected there to be given to your loved ones, should they desire to use it in an attempt to have a baby.”

      Justin asked, “What do you mean, under normal circumstances?”

      “What I mean is that your cum will NOT be collected in the machine. The cum will travel down and out of the machine through tubing in the floor which will empty it into the furnace for this building, ensuring both the destruction of your sperm, and that your lineage will die with you!”

     Mr. Bieber said, “You’re not attaching that infernal machine to my dick!”

     “Really? And how do you or your son propose to stop me? Guards, hook them up!”

     With that, the guards first hooked up the machine to Mr. Bieber and then to Justin. Both men struggled mightily, but they were no match for my guards. Then, with a smile of pure evil, I hit the switch that brought the machine to life.

    At first, both men protested violently. But after about 10 minutes, the gyrations caused their dicks to betray them, and their hips began gyrating obscenely. First, some clear pre-cum made its way through their respective tubes. Then, after a few more minutes, their sperm began their journey from the two men’s balls to oblivion. The Biebers’ faces showed how aroused they were. I had set the machine to give them regular rest breaks. I wanted to draw out what to them seemed pleasurable now, but would soon enough turn into exquisite torture.

     I left the prisoners in the very capable hands of my guards. I had more pressing matters to attend to. I had to meet with all of the largest cable and satellite providers to set up the pay-per-view executions. The executives were waiting in my office. My secretary brought the contracts in and the executives and I signed them. I was in a celebratory mood, so I first went out to one of the finest restaurants in town, and enjoyed a delicious meal of lobster and champagne. Then, I decided to go home and get a good night’s sleep.

     The next morning, I decided to check on the prisoners and their milking. Upon returning, I asked Chuck how the prisoners were doing. Chuck told me that the milking was going well, but that the father was already showing signs of being drained. His cum shots were decreasing in frequency and quantity, and he had already had a few dry shots. As a result, I found him to be moaning and in extreme pain as compared to his son. I therefore ordered an adjustment to the machine. I had the frequency of Mr. Bieber’s milking cut in half, and actually increased Justin’s. It was paramount that the milking of both ended at the same time.

     I decided to talk to my victims. “How are you doing today, only six more days until your grande finale!”?

     Justin glared at me. “Go to Hell, Coldiani! I hope you go broke in your sick pay-per-view executions!”

     “Ah, I’m afraid I have some disappointing news for you there, Justin. I just signed a contract with all the major cable and satellite providers that guarantees me a minimum of THREE BILLION DOLLARS! It seems that as soon as they put out the word that your execution would be available on pay-per-view, that people all over the world signed up to watch it. Isn’t it nice to have so many Beliebers? HAHAHAHAHA! Oh, by the way, I’d try very hard NOT to finish emptying your balls before the big day. The contract allows me to castrate you once they’re empty, and that will also be on the pay-per-view as bonus footage.”

     Justin’s eyes widened in horror! “You sick bastard! Do you know how many chicks would give their eyeteeth to have me plow them with these? You can’t castrate me!”

     “I can and I will! Besides, what use would your dick and balls be to you once they’re drained?” I left the room, mentally noting that the father had apparently accepted his fate, or was at the least resigned to it, since he said nothing.

     I checked in periodically over the rest of the week, and was pleasantly surprised that Mr. Bieber was still releasing sperm on a regular basis. Apparently, cutting back on the frequency of his milking had the desired effect.

     Finally, the big day arrived. I asked Chuck for an update, and he informed me that neither man had shot any cum, just dry shots, for the past six hours. I then gave the orders for the two prisoners to be shackled and marched down to the execution chamber. By now, the prisoners’ spirits were broken completely, so they gave my guards no trouble as they took their final walk. Of course, I had the cameras rolling as they strode naked with their cocks and balls swaying back and forth, even though they were now permanently flaccid.

     Once we arrived at the chamber, they were seated in two chairs that faced each other. Their arms and legs were bound to the chair, with the legs bound to the sides of the chair exposing their genitalia. I then turned and faced the camera.

     “Welcome to my pay-per-view program, The Execution of Justin and Jeremy Bieber.. I am John Coldiani and I will be your host for this program. Allow me to introduce our two condemned men to you. First, on my left is former star singer, Justin Bieber, a legend in his own mind. Justin is just what I expected, an arrogant, egotistical, entitled brat! And to my left, the man who made Justin what he is today, his greedy, arrogant, egotistical and entitled father, Jeremy Bieber! Let’s give them a big round of applause!”

     “Before we begin the main program, here is some bonus footage of Justin and his dad being milked of all of their cum. And I have good news, folks. We destroyed all of that cum, ensuring that their lineage ends with them, never again will the world have to endure another Justin Bieber!”

     “Now that you’ve enjoyed that, it’s time to start the preparations for the grand finale! Since both men have been drained of all their sperm, they no longer have a need for their “equipment”. Now, one at a time, they will both be castrated fully! Don’t worry, though. As soon as Chuck removes their genitalia, Bill will cauterize the wound. We don’t want them dying too soon, do we? HAHAHAHAHA!”

     With that, Chuck approached Mr. Bieber. He recoiled in horror and tried to close his legs against the upcoming invasion, but the ropes held him fast. “NO! PLEASE! I don’t mind dying, but PLEASE let me die as a man!! I’m begging you!”

     “Isn’t that touching? A guy whose balls have been drained wants to keep them. Well, he isn’t going to be allowed that privilege. Chuck, tie off his balls and cock!”

     With the order given, Chuck tied off Mr. Bieber’s balls and cock at the root. He then waited for five minutes for the bloodflow to the genitalia to stop. Once it had, he produced a large knife, and began to slice through the root, as Mr. Bieber screamed! He sawed rather quickly, but the audience saw everything, since the cameras zoomed in on the action. Once the genitalia were removed, Bill cauterized the wound to prevent Mr. Bieber of dying of blood loss. Meanwhile, Chuck poked a hole through each ball, and then fed a string through the holes. He then draped the garish necklace over Mr. Bieber’s head. Mr. Bieber had passed out, but Justin saw the castration of his father, and began screaming and begging for mercy, since he knew that he would be next to get a new necklace!

     “Wasn’t that hot? Now, we’ll let dear old dad rest and regain the strength he’ll need for his execution. It’s time to castrate the guest of honor! Chuck, you know what to do!”

     Chuck approached Justin, who was crying and screaming for mercy, and pulling against his ropes like a madman! Sadly for Justin, my guards are expert at binding condemned men. They have to be, if a condemned man escapes, the guard whose mistake allowed the escape takes their place on Death Row! In all my years of executing the condemned, I’ve only had to execute two guards. Chuck bound off Justin’s genitalia, waited for the circulation to stop, and then quickly severed Justin’s cock and balls in a nice package. Justin was still screaming when Chuck draped the macabre necklace around his neck. Mr. Bieber awoke right then, and began screaming as he saw the mutilated body of his son, with blood running down his chest and abs from his severed genitalia.

     “OK, my friends, we have now come to the main event. It is time for Justin Bieber and his father, Jeremy Bieber to be executed for their crimes. The first to die will be Justin Bieber, followed by his father!”

    At this point, one of my guards, Jeff, whispered in my ear and asked why we couldn’t have Justin go last, since he was the bigger name. I quietly but firmly explained that Justin had to die first so that Jeremy could inherit everything Justin owned. That property would then devolve to me once Jeremy was executed. If Justin went last, it would mess up all the plans.

     I then stripped naked, and donned an executioner’s hood. Behind Justin’s chair was a wooden frame, with a noose fixed at the front of it. Behind the frame was an x-shaped wooden handle. I placed the noose over Justin’s head, and then asked him if he had any last words for his fans that were watching.

     Justin glared at me and said, “Coldiani, you and my so-called fans can all go to Hell!”

     “After you, Justin!” And with that I began to twist the handle, ever so slowly tightening the garrote around Justin’s throat. Justin tried to cry out, but the noose prevented all sound from coming out. Jeremy cried out, “Die well, Justin! Show them how the great Justin Bieber dies! And forgive me, my son, for getting you in this mess!”

     Justin may or may not have heard his father. I don’t know. His muscles tensed up, as he fought futilely to escape. His face went from a pale white to a tan, then to red, and finally to blue and then purple. His tongue also turned a bright blue, and slightly protruded between his lips. Finally, the hyoid bone snapped like a twig, and at the same time, Justin voided both his bowels and bladder. He then sagged in his restraints with his head hanging down. I kept the garrote tight for another ten minutes, and then the doctor approached Justin and placed his stethoscope over Justin’s heart, listening for any sign of life.

     “Mr. Coldiani, I can detect no signs of life, and I hereby declare Mr. Justin Bieber dead!”

     I then turned to Jeremy Bieber. “Congratulations, Mr. Bieber. How does it feel to be a multi-millionaire now that you’ve inherited your son’s fortune?”

     “You’re a monster, Coldiani! You’ve killed my son, and now you’re going to kill me.”

     Without answering the obvious, I then stepped behind Mr. Coldiani’s chair, noosed him, and began his execution by garrote. Mr. Bieber didn’t struggle as much as his son had. First, he wasn’t in as good physical shape, and second, he had become resigned to his fate, but once the execution was complete, his face and body bore the same garish coloring as that of his son.

     “Well, friends, that concludes our program for this evening, The Execution of Justin and Jeremy Bieber. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I have. The Bieber’s remains will be taken out to my farm and put through a wood chipper, ensuring their complete and utter destruction. Hopefully, they’ll make good fertilizer. Also, if you would like a Blu-ray DVD of tonight’s program, please call the number on your screen. Operators are waiting to assist you now. You can also call that number if you have someone you wish to declare expendable and executed. Remember, there’s a special offer, 20% off of my fees if you mention this program, And now, good night.”