WAR!

It was a clear March night, slightly chilly. A Cadillac pulled up besides a large, two-story mansion in Manhattan. The sounds of various musics and films wafted down the block on the spring air. All was peaceful, calm, relaxing. Little did they know the momentous event that was on the verge of erupting.

Hugh Lewellyn was dead tired. As the editor of the New York Spin, he was one of the richest and most influential men in America. He owned newspapers, magazines, TV channels, movie companies, porn distribution venues, pizza houses, Dollar Generals, Bi-Los. He owned lawyers, lobbyists, Congressmen, cabinet members, generals, diplomats. He even owned Rupert Murdoch. And he had a spent a day sitting in his office, watching his wealth and power spin around him in amidst of a world of declining turmoil and crisis. He was on top of the world, but he was tired. Sitting in that big chair all day wore someone out, as did the swanky parties with his wife and socialite friends. What a hard, miserable life.

As Lewellyn and his wife Evelyn exited their car, an aide rushed up to him urgently, brandishing a Blackberry. After his tiresome day, Lewellyn's first instinct was to kick him in the balls and rush inside to sleep. He needed sleep badly, and some new development about a failed stimulus package or a terrorist attack on DC needn't detain him from much-needed rest.

"Urgent message," the aide, an acneed intern named Steve wheezed.

"At this hour?" Lewellyn grumbled impatiently.

"Are you Mr. Lewellyn?" Steve asked.

"Of course I'm Lewellyn!" the tycoon snapped. He snatched the blackberry from the dork and stared at it, absorbing the message.

And as he read it, as it sunk in -

No, it couldn't be.

But there it was - right in front of him. What he'd been waiting for all these months.

Lewellyn's face lit up with a glorious grin of excitement, of passion, of anticipation and pure childish glee. He looked at his entourage, who stood waiting breathlessly to hear the message. A gruff, happy cry escaped his disbelieving lips:

"WAR!"

The entourage rushed excitedly into the house, gabbering excitedly about the news. There was work to be done. Lewellyn tossed the Blackberry into the air; Steve tried to catch it, but it landed on the pavement and shattered, exposing its electronic innards. One of Lewellyn's aides shook his head disapprovingly, and as Steve bent down to pick up the shattered device, the front door closed in his face.

Friday, March 20th, 2009, 9:01 PM, Eastern Standard Time. War had been declared.

But by whom, and on what?