"Hey, COBOL guy!  How's the test data coming?"  Bart Sisyphus was on his daily sortie to the COBOL guy's cube.
    "Sorry, Bart.  I'm dead in the water here."
    "Whattaya mean, 'dead in the water?'" Bart sputtered.  There was a vein in his temple that throbbed when he reached the ignition point.  He could feel it now.
    "My keyboard seized up on me," said C.G. "And they won't give me a new one."
    "Won't give you ... What happened?"
    "Well, I, uh, ... It seems I spilled some coffee on it."  C.G. winced and threw up his hands in self defense.  When Bart did not attack, he continued.  "I called the Help Desk for help.  They said I had violated the 'Three Foot Rule.'"
    "Well, why did you have to go and do that?" scolded Bart. "Uh, what the heck is the 'Three Foot Rule?'"
    "You aren't allowed to have food or drink within three feet of computer equipment," said C.G. "If you break the rule, they won't fix or replace the equipment."
    "See?  It's all your own fault, then!" Bart fulminated. "Now, what am I supposed to do?"
    C.G. squirmed a little, but stood up for himself.  "Oh, please!  What kind of rule is that?  Where is it written?  No one could tell me that.  How can they hold me to some sort of ... vapor rule that has never been published and no one has ever heard of?"
    "You've gotta have rules," said Bart sagaciously.
    "Come on!" retorted C.G. "You never heard of it either!  Admit it!  You just asked me what the 'Three Foot Rule' was!"
    Bart shook his head.  "Gotta have rules," he said.

    Bart picked up his daily breakfast taco on the way back to his cube, where he found Peaburp and Crown Prince Ethelred occupying both of his chairs.  He cleared his throat significantly, but neither of his guests took the hint.
     "I've been thinking about what you said the other day about the worm problem," said Ethelred.  "You may be right.  In any case, I'm not much into the slaying thing."  And he carelessly tossed the sword Worm Whacker at Bart's feet.
    "Neat sword!" said Bart.
    "It's called 'Worm Whacker,'" said Ethelred.  "Legend has it that it was used by the heroes of olden days to slay worms and repel the enemies of Euphonia.  It's supposed to have magical powers."
    "Everyone in the world knows about Worm Whacker," added Peaburp.  "That is, everyone in our world.  It's probably the only thing that prevents the Dark Lord from invading Euphonia.  He isn't quite sure how powerful it is."
    "Dark Lord?" asked Bart.  It sounded creepy.
    "He's your standard-issue evil wizard," Peaburp explained.  "He rules Blort, the neighboring kingdom."
    "Blort?"
    "It's a good description of what the place looks like," the dwarf replied.  "Anyway, everyone is afraid of him, especially us dwarves.  He's enslaved thousands of us."
    "How does he do that?" asked Bart.
    "The evil eye, they say.  He has two powers in particular.  One is the eye thing.  He can hypnotize you with a glance.  The other is the lightning that comes from his hands.  It goes straight to the heart and kills you in a, well, in a flash."
    "I don't think anyone serves him willingly," added Ethelred.  "Except maybe my dad's two advisors, Dan and Eric.  I think this kill-the-dwarves thing was their idea."
    Bart sprayed breakfast taco all over the cube.  "Excuse me?" he spluttered.  "Let me get this straight.  The only thing this Dark Lord guy fears is this sword, which, thanks to the two moles he placed in your father's service, is now not even in the same universe."

    "Yo, Bart!  I need to talk to the little guy!"
    "Fine with me," said Bart eagerly. "I've got work to do!"
    "Hi, Sheldon!" piped Peaburp adoringly.
    "Got some work for you to do, little buddy," said Sheldon.
    "Work?" asked Bart skeptically. "Sheldon, are you letting unauthorized personnel work on agency equipment?"
    "Unauthorized, heck!" retorted Sheldon amiably. "Peaburp is our new Unix System Administrator.  I got him a job here!"
    "No kidding?" Bart marveled.
    "I have backup!" continued Sheldon enthusiastically. "He's great!  I've never seen anyone learn so fast.  And now I can take a week off to go to that Star Trek convention!"
    Sheldon grabbed the dwarf's elbow and guided him gently, but urgently, away.
    "You know, I have to bring Twimwose here," said the retreating Peaburp.
    "Twimwose?" asked Sheldon.
    "My sweetheart."

    As Sheldon and Peaburp disappeared around the corner, the mail arrived.
    "'lo, Tanya," mumbled Bart absentmindedly as the mail carrier handed him a single tattered interoffice envelope.
    But Ethelred was transfixed.
    "Who is this vision of loveliness?" gasped the prince.
    "Oh, this is Tanya," said Bart. "Mail carrier."
    Tanya cocked a cynical eyebrow.  "Vision of loveliness?  Who is this dude, anyway?"
    "Uh, this is Crown Prince Ethelred of Euphonia."
    "Right.  Nice duds.  Where's the Society for Creative Anachronism fair?"
    "Long and unbelievable story, Tanya," said Bart.
    "And what's that fascinating silver ... vehicle?" asked the prince.
    "My mail cart?"  Tanya stifled a guffaw.
    "Is that what you call it?  What's it for?"
    "I push it around all day," said Tanya.  "Picking up and dropping off mail."
    "How fascinating!" said the prince.
    "Fascinating?  Delivering mail?" Tanya was laughing freely.  "What did you say your name was?"
    "Ethelred," said Ethelred.
    "Well, you won't make it down the hall with a name like that," said Tanya. "I'll tell you what.  I'll call  you 'Red.'  You come along with me, and I'll show you all the wonders of mail delivery."
    As Ethelred trotted after Tanya like a happy puppy, Bart sighed with relief.  At last, he could get back to work.  He settled comfortably into his chair, pulled up to his keyboard, and started to type.
    There was a scent of sulphur.

    When Bart looked up, a gigantic reptilian head was glaring at him from his cubicle partition.  As the worm discharged a massive belch of flame, Bart tumbled backwards onto the floor.  Fire alarms were going off all over the building, and the sprinkler system was helpfully drenching every computer on the floor.  The worm had fixed its eyes hungrily on Bart, who was handily squirming within easy striking distance.  Then his hand found the handle of a sword. The sword.  Bart gripped it with both hands, closed his eyes, and swung with all his might.  A drenching shower of sticky liquid descended.
    Bart opened one eye experimentally.  Apparently, he was still alive, so he tried the other.  Still ok.  He was sharing the cubicle floor with a large dragon head.  His entire row of cubicles had been torched.  What hadn't been burned had been soaked with water.  And Bart himself was covered from head to toe in the blood of the worm.
    "Gaakh!" retched Bart. "What am I supposed to do now?"
    So he did the only thing he could think of.  He called the Help Desk.  Miraculously, the telephone still worked.
    "Help Desk.  May I help you?"
    "Um, yes.  That is, I hope so.  You see, I just beheaded this dragon in my cube.  And my PC is a dead loss.  I mean, monitor, CPU, keyboard, everything.  And I don't know how many other PCs on the floor have been damaged.  We need to get this stuff replaced ASAP!"
    "I'm sorry, sir," said the Help Desk voice. "We can't help you.  All of the damage is your responsibility."
    "My responsibility?" squawked Bart. "How do you figure that?"
    "You have violated the 'Ten Mile Rule.'"
    "I beg your pardon?  What's the 'Ten Mile Rule?'"
    "No fire-breathing entities are allowed within ten miles of agency equipment."
    "You're making that up!" screamed Bart. "Tell me where that's published, if you aren't!"
    "It's common knowledge, sir.  Everyone knows the 'Ten Mile Rule.'"