“What in the name of Baphomet do we have to do?” whined Goat Mask, pounding his fist on the table.
Several other figures sat nearby in the dimly lit boardroom. They wore all black, faces obscured by animal masks.
These are the ‘Merry Millionaires.’ They’re a sub-committee of the Illuminati, the shadowy society that has run civilization since it began.
The Merry Millionaires are tasked with keeping the secret group’s morale high through jokes and pranks.
But there was no joy at their latest meeting.
“You know when you play a prank, and the target doesn’t notice?” Rat Mask explained. “That’s annoying. But then you get progressively more ridiculous and eventually your target gets it. When they do, the game is up, and you share a laugh.”
“But no matter what buffoon we install as a head of state, the unwashed masses accept it! We’ve been trying this prank for years and not once has someone said, ‘Quit pulling our legs. This isn’t a real leader.’ Not once!”
Goat Mask concurred. “Each buffoon we put in power is crazier and stupider than the last. Characters that a cartoon wouldn’t accept! What’s it going to take until people get the joke? Do we really have to send out a broom wearing a sombrero and say, ‘Presenting the new leader of the free world,’ before the human herd gets it?”
“Seems that’s our only option left,” Rhino Mask said. “Or a guy in a clown suit. Maybe an inflatable sex doll. We keep waiting for someone to say, all right. Enough is enough. The masses are clueless, sure, but I’d expect them to notice we’re pranking them. They can’t be this dumb and docile. Can they?”