Noir: The End

So near to fruition, my plan! Tugger will march with the master race. In time he will accept his glorious role as stud to the legions of eager _Mütter des Reiches._ For I see now that to breed an army requires a thousand mothers. I was selfish to suppose I could keep him to myself. The poor boy will have to work hard. But he is strong! _Der Vorsitzende_ will be grateful.

He reaches for the silly bauble. I take a step back. He takes a step forward. I turn and run down the hall, and he follows. Such a good, simple man; how I love him!

Now we are in the room I have prepared. On every side, plush velvet curtains are drawn back to reveal banners of satin, each bearing a magnificent swastika. In the middle, a huge circular bed, heated, vibrating, covered with an even bigger swastika. From hidden speakers, a Wagnerian chorus sings of the glory of battle and death.

I toss the _Bete Noire_ among the pillows. “Come, my _liebhaber_,” I cry, pushing him down and tearing at his clothes. “Let’s fight!”

THE END