The Furpians have a plan
Keith Richards shuffled to Fministry Fhall in his favorite ceremonial frobes. It was a circular black conical building, its sides stepping toward the sky in concentric rings. It was quite impressive.He was joined by a few other stragglers to the Fministry Grand High Fcouncil on What To Do About The Killing Cylinder, their heavy robes swishing to and fro as they poured into the building.
Keith gazed upward at the ceiling once he got inside, and was again awed by the sheer size of it. He was smiling slightly when Jimi interrupted him.
"Find your fseat, fman, they are ready to get started."
"Right, right."
Keith hurried to his place as the Fgrand Fmaster, B B King, pounded his fgavel.
"Okay, okay... all of you just shut it, would you?" Mr King bellowed.
Everyone quieted down.
"Very well. As your Fgrand Fmaster, I hereby call this fcouncil to forder. We are gathered here to decide what to do about the Killing Cylinder."
A murmer of nervous talk erupted from the galleries and ranks of fmen about the room.
"Knock it off, you ftits!" King thundered. Everyone shut up.
"Right. So, there's a largish metal fcylinder out in the fwastelands that smashes everything we put in it to fpaste. It's inexorable destruction of our entire fsociety is, well, just inexorable. What shall we do about it?"
A younger, but very respected member of the Fministry stood up. "Sir, we have only put a thousand ftelevision frepairmen into it. Perhaps another fthousand would confuse it, and it might make a fmistake?". The young fminister looked about him for support, and a low murmer of agreement greeted him.
"What sort of mistake, you simpering fcabbage of a man? Plaid fpants with a plaid fshirt?" King howled down from his pulpit, shaking his fgavel at the young fminister.
"Sir, if I may..." a voice from the back of the room said. Everyone turned to see Jeff Beck standing proudly, his face wreathed in self confidence.
"Yes yes, Beck, go ahead."
"Well sir, it is my fopinion, and the fopinion of a few others," Beck said, gesturing grandly, "that we should travel to the fplace where the fmusic comes from. There we shall surely find who made the Killing Cylinder."
"Hmmm..." said Mr King.
"Hmmmm..." said everyone else.
"What, you mean find the fcreator of the Killing Cylinder?" King asked.
"Exactly sir. I believe that fmusic and the Killing Cylinder come form the same place. Farplootinken F."
"Holy fsheep ftits, Beck, you're right!" someone cried. More cries joined this one from the hosts of fmen, ringing from the walls and ceiling of the room.
"It is settled!" shouted Mr King above the din. "We will travel to Farplootinken F!"
Wild cheers erupted from everyone in the Fcouncil Fhall.
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