If There Was No Grammer: A Rather Short Comedy Story

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Tippity-tappity-tap! My door boomed. I opened my door to find a shaking scribe holding out a note for me. He thrusts it into my hands. I open the envelope and read its contents:

'TOTHESUBSCRIBEYOUREFIRED' I read. I'm supposed to subscribe to what now? I try to decipher the writing. Even as a subordinate scribe I still have trouble reading. I can make out 'Subscribe', 'You' and 'Refired'.

Okay...? I think and frown. All I can think about are the refried beans subscription the local market just started. But that can't be right...

"Oh!" I start, "of course!" I breathe out loud. Then by brow creases, "Wait, who's the tooth for refired?" I shake my head and write a note back for the scribe to carry.

'GETYOURTOOTHCHECKED.' I write back. A few minutes later the scribe comes back with another letter.

'HOWMUCHDOIOWE.' I read. Then I gasp! Whoever's writing is a member of the Chiowe! I must alert the Pharoah that the Chiowe are back! Wait, do they think I'm part of the Chiowe! They're planning to refire the rebellion! I quickly write a letter to the pharoah.

'WATCHOUTTHECHIOWEAREGOINGTOREFIRETHEREBELLION.' I write and tell the scribe to give it to the head-scribe to give to the officials.

I soon got a letter back saying, 'SHOUTTORETHEREWHAT.' This time I can't piece together anything so I decide to pay a visit to the chief scribe.

"What are you doing here, sub-scribe?" The chief scribe asks in confusion when I enter.

"Did you deliver the letter about the Chiowe to the king?" I ask.

"The Chiowe is back!? Oh dear, I did get a letter from some joker saying a shout tore something - I know, ridiculous, but nothing from you. We must alert the king at once!"

"Thank goodness." I breathe a sigh of relief. "And come to think of it, I got an odd letter, too. Some poor soul needs their teeth looked at. Pronto." I say.

"Ah," The Chief Scribe clucks before turning to me again and asking, "Oh, and did you get my letter?" He says as he exits the room.

"No. Why?"

"You're fired! Well then, I'll go write a letter to the king!" The Chief Scribe calls from the hallway as he walks away.

A day later in the palace, the King is wondering why the Chief Scribe is asking for a license to kill flies. Oh well, the King sighs and stamps his seal of permission on the letter.

The bloody battle that ensued is something not detailed below. 

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