M.Y.T.H. Inc. Link By Robert Asprin

So anyway, I reports for work bright and early and am shown around the plant before commencin’ my actual duties. Let me tell you I am impressed by this set-up like I have seldom been impressed by nothin’ before. It is like. Santa’s North Pole elf sweatshop done up proper.

When I was in grad school, I used to read a lot of comics. Most particularly I was taken by the ads they used to carry therein for X-Ray Glasses and Whoopie Cushions and such, which I was unfortunately never able to afford as I was not an untypical student and therefore had less money than your average eight-year-old. Walkin’ into the plant, however, I suddenly realized that this particular set of indulgences had not truly passed me by as I had feared.

The place was gargantuous, by which I mean it was really big, and jammed from wall to wall to ceilin’ with conveyor belts and vats and stacks of materials and boxes labeled in languages I am not privileged to recognize, as well as large numbers of worker types strollin’ around checkin’ gauges and pushin’ carts and otherwise engaged in the sorts of activities one does when the doors are open and there’s a chance that the management types might come by on their way to the coffee machine and look in to see what they’re doin’. What was even more impressive was the goods in production. At a glance I could see that as an admirer of cheap junk gimmicks, I had indeed died and gone to pig heaven. It was my guess, however uneducated, that what I had found was the major supplier for those ads which I earlier referenced, as well as most of the peddlers in the Bazaar who cater to the tourist trade.