Gas — Tom Horacek
A lively debate interrupted the banquet proceedings. By the time
Hee-Sun and I gassed the Hall with tabun, the candelabra and
fishbones were being used for evil.
At first sniff the guests became eager repenters, shrieking apologies
blindly as their sphincters failed them.
To each, our megaphone-voice was the voice of "Direktor"
so many were humbled before the agent took them.
A little groggy ourselves, Hee-Sun and I nevertheless harnessed
the power of attorney, rewarding facts on Father with atropine
sulphate. We discovered where he was lying in wait, were told he had
one odor: mephitic.
Later, at home, we readied ourselves for attack.
Guests’ faces appeared at the attic window, then vanished,
as we made up a big batch of soman by candlelight.