"A couriered package from Nevada for you, sir," Athelstan the valet, butler and proper English gentleman's gentleman handed it to his boss the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set.
"From Renfield no doubt," Set seethed, "he's really been ripping up the household expense account on the bets he's been placing in Las Vegas casinos."
"He does seem to be crapping out at the crap tables, sir," was Athelstan's reply.
"I'm thinking of sending an email to Amadeus to lace Renfield's chocolate milk with laxatives so he'll spend his time crapping out in the bathroom instead of crapping out at the crap tables," Set foamed through his large vampiric fangs.
"An excellent idea, sir," Athelstan nodded, "if I may ask sir, what are Renfield and Amadeus doing in Nevada?".
"Well, I sent Renfield on a mission there," Set opened the package, "which hopefully he's completed by sending me this package."
Set brought out of the package a sealed test tube.
"Pray tell, what is that, sir?" Athelstan inquired.
"It's a test tube I ordered Renfield to steal from a secret lab at Area 51 in Nevada," Set smiled, "a test tube containing the DNA from one of the dead aliens at the UFO crash in Roswell, New Mexico in 1947."
"The crash that the U.S. government said never happened, sir?" Athelstan dusted the Warren Commission Report on the Kennedy Assassination that sat on Set's bookshelf in the library.
"That's the one," Set nodded, "if there were no crashed extraterrestrial spacecraft over the years , all I can say is that there are a lot of incompetent makers of weather balloons out there."
To be continued.
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