The Karlscotwhitaker Factor, epilogue

Karlscotwhitaker was sitting happily in his house when suddenly the door was ripped off its hinges and there stood the President of the United States, dressed to kill and armed for the same purpose.

"Well hello there! Nice of you to drop by! I--..." Karl was forced to duck as one of the President's knives went hurtling through the air.

"I'm going to get you, Mr...Mr.... What is your last name anyway?" The President decided to break the social ice as well as Karl's head.

"For me to know and you to find out!" Karl laughed as he dodged a few bullets.

"Why you...! Won't be polite, eh?" More bullets whistled. Dixie, I think.

And so it went. It was, of course, a foregone conclusion. Karl was in no position to take in his surroundings and soon he was stuffed into a box and sent off to somewhere inconspicuous.

He arrived, looked around, saw the remaining 18.207% of the German Cuban MPs and spoke. "Ah. I must be somewhere inconspicuous."

Quickly Karl took in his surroundings. He was indeed somewhere inconspicuous. Of course at any moment he might come up with a plan that would save his own skin as well as punish the wicked, reward the good, establish world peace and global justice, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, house the homeless, help the poor to fleece the rich, right wrongs and restore left rights, heal the sick, sicken the overly healthy, fatten the skinny and skin the fatties, keep nasty people from being nasty, tie up all loose ends and provide satisfactory narrative closure with a good belly laugh, but maybe there isn't such a thing after all.