Simon watched warily as General Sin set down the needle. “I see we’re not getting very far here.” He clucked his tongue. Anger surged through Simon, and he felt the veins in his neck throb. General Sin strutted over to the table of instruments. “Let’s try things from a different angle, shall we?” He held up a small metal contraption for Simon to inspect. “We call this the junior guillotine. It’s modeled after a French invention our Dear Leader is especially fond of. Would you like to see how it works?” He squeezed the device to demonstrate the swift slicing motion and then breathed in Simon’s ear, “Careful, now. You wouldn’t want to slip your finger in there by mistake.”
Simon gritted his teeth. His head felt like it was sinking. The general kept his voice level and pleasant as he slipped
