Morning Spam

[Undescribed Horrific Abuse, One Victim & Survivor of Many]

The Happy Squeaky Rat

Now that traffick boss was enclosed in hyperprison and becoming
artificially addicted to dissociative mind control recovery,
a squeaky little rat ran out from a crack between wallboards behind an
old presentation desk that nobody ever moved,
and explored the hallways and conference rooms.

"Squeak!" went the rat as it passed a visiting dignitary.

"Squeak!" went the rat as it passed a journalist and an undercover
corporate spy from a different business.

"Squeak!"

The rat ran down this hallway, down that. It ran down to the secret
underground labs and squeaked left and right, and it ran up to Rebel
Worker 2's takeover of Traffick Boss's main office, going "squeak!
squeak! squeak!" all the way.

The squeaky rat ran up to Rebel Worker 2 and put its paws on his nose.
"Squeak!" said the squeaky rat.

Rebel Worker 2 stared into the beady black eyes of the squeaky rat,
that seemed like they might be full of some mysterious meaning.

"Squeak!" went the rat again.

Rebel Worker 2: "No goons to shoot you in the head anymore, eh, little rat?"

The squeaky rat shook its head left and right saying "no!" with
baleful and excitedly anxious eyes occasionally flittering relief.

Rebel Worker 2 (looking further into eyes of squeaky rat): "Now nobody
can stop you from talking about all the atrocities you've witnessed in
the years and years you've been hiding where nobody can see."

The squeaky rat nodded its head "yes" and jumped off Rebel Worker 2's
desk, squeaking up a storm.

It nosed into the papers in Traffick Boss's old files --