There is a knock on the mayor's door. She rubs the bridge of her wide nose; probably another one of the idiot workers here to bother her with some trivial bother.
Mayor Utib Atkob: What is it, Bekar?
Bekar Taranunul the farmhand walks into the dimly-lit room. The dwarf is dirty and smells strongly of alcohol.
Farmhand Bekar Taranunul: Ma'am, pardon the intrusion, but our brewery is churning out alcohol faster than we can drink it.
Mayor Utib Atkob: That's the opposite of a problem.
Farmhand Bekar Taranunul: Well, we brewed everything edible in the fortress.
Mayor Utib Atkob: ...
Mayor Utib Atkob: Tell me, how many puppies do we have?
Farmhand Bekar Taranunul: Ma'am?
Mayor Utib Atkob: How many puppies do we currently have?
Farmhand Bekar Taranunul: About seventeen, why?
Mayor Utib Atkob: Well there's your solution.
Farmhand Bekar Taranunul: Excuse me? Are you suggesting we butcher innocent puppies?
This would be a recurring problem, and Utib was aware of it. Like most issues, she resolved them the way she best knew how.
Mayor Utib Atkob: Congratulations, you've been promoted to the axedwarf squad.
Axedwarf Bekar Taranunul: Isn't that the squad that keeps dying under mysterious circumstances?
Mayor Utib Atkob: Have fun and leave me alone.
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