"All right!" the Leader groaned. "Stop it! I poosh buttons! I poosh 'em twice apiece! I do what you say like a liddle lamb." Toffee manipulated the ring, and again the Leader picked himself up from the floor. "Let's stop this horseplay," she said, "and get going." "Horseplay!" the Leader exclaimed, advancing his finger to the buttons. "Horses vhat play mean like you should be on the backs of postage stamps." * * * * * It was nearly an hour later when the Leader released the last button and sagged back in his chair, a broken man. "Iss all," he said. "You have louse up averything. They all say I am insane, but they gonna do it anyhow 'cause I tell 'em, the dumbells. Over-regimented, they are, like a lot of stupid machines." Toffee glanced out the window at the now-darkened square. "The fireworks should be starting soon, if they're as efficient as you say." She turned back to the Leader. "Is there any way to get to the top of this pile of concrete where we'll have a better view?" "Opp stairs, sure," the Leader said dully. "Who vants to see?" "Come on," Toffee said. "This is going to be _worth_ seeing, all that advanced gun powder going up in smoke." "Hokay," the Leader agreed brokenly. "Who cares now?" Toffee watched him carefully as he opened a drawer in the desk and slid his hand inside. It was a moment before he extracted a large bottle of vodka. "For the medicinal purposes only," he explained ruefully. "And I am the sick buckeroo of them all." Toffee smiled. "Let's get to the top, pop," she said amiably. "Let's tie one on." * * * * * Though it occurred miles away, the explosion shook even the solid foundations of the capitol building. Toffee and the leader watched with awe as the whole world, it seemed, suddenly screamed with white fire. The Leader was forced to cling to Toffee for support, and Toffee clung to the bottle strictly as a precaution. "Beautiful," Toffee breathed as the building ceased to shudder. "It's beautiful to see all that death and destruction destroying itself. Makes you think of those scorpions who sting themselves in the neck when they're mad." And if the explosions constituted an item of beauty for Toffee, the night was filled to overflowing with the gaudy stuff. The explosions, near and far, continued through the night. Toffee and the despairing Leader sat on the edge of a functional parapet and toasted each new blast with vodka and conflicting emotions. Below them people churned bewilderedly in the streets like a rising and falling tide. A faint thread of dawn touched the horizon just as the last explosion shuddered across the land. "Iss all," the Leader mourned soddenly. "All iss gone. You haf made me a tired old man."