[ WP ] Due to misuse of the word `` literally '' , your country has been taken over by actual Grammar Nazis .

The single, bare bulb hanging from the ceiling comes to life with an electric crack, and his eyes sting as they adjust from the darkness. There was a bag over his head when they brought him in here, so this is his first chance to take in the room. The drab, colorless walls are completely devoid of decoration besides a small bookshelf to his right. As he attempts to stretch, he realizes his arms are still tied to the back of the chair. 
 
 The room's only door creaks, and in walks a Nazi official. Judging by the clips on his collar, he's an *Obersyntaxleiter. * 
 
 `` Good morning,'' he says, then smiles slightly as he shuts the door. `` Did you know it was morning? You have been here for some time.'' 
 
 The man in the chair says nothing. If this man is an *Obersyntaxleiter, * it's unlikely talking will help. 
 
 Now the official frowns. `` Unless I am mistaken, I asked you a non-rhetorical question. Non-rhetorical questions merit responses do n't you think?'' 
 
 The man in the chair hesitates, then says, `` Yes.'' 
 
 The nazi cocks his head quizzically. `` Yes, what?'' 
 
 `` Yes, *Obersyntaxleiter*.'' 
 
 The official throws his head back in laughter. `` No, no. I mean, to which of my questions were you responding?'' 
 
 The man in the chair breaks into a cold sweat. It's already beginning. He thinks about his response for as long he feels is safe, then slowly says, `` I was responding to the latter question, *Obersyntaxleiter*; yes, non-rhetorical questions merit responses. I apologize for creating confusion, however. My answer to the former question is'no.' I had not known the time of day until you informed me of it.'' 
 
 The official smiles wanly; it is a smile of masked disappointment. `` Are you educated, young man?'' he asks. 
 
 The man in chair feels a pit open in his stomach. `` Yes,'' he says. 
 
 `` I would not guess you are more than twenty,'' the official says in a musing tone. 
 
 `` Correct, sir. I am nineteen.'' 
 
 `` Ah,'' the official says, leaning forward slightly. `` Then surely an educated young man like yourself is at the university. Is that a correct assumption?'' 
 
 The man in the chair can sense where this is going. `` Yes, sir.'' 
 
 `` What is your primary course of study at the university?'' the official asks. 
 
 Quickly, the young man says, `` At the moment I study linguistics, but I am planning to switch my major to German.'' 
 
 The official pauses. For a moment, he seems surprised, then relaxes into a smirk. `` Why do you wish to study German?'' he asks. 
 
 The young man pauses. `` Linguistics can be messy. German is a... pure language.'' 
 
 The official folds his arms, takes a deep breath, and seems for a moment to be assessing the young man. After what feels like an hour, he says, `` Indeed, I think that is an excellent choice. I suggest you make that change immediately.'' He begins to move behind the young man. `` You are free to go. Let me get these ropes off you, and you may go about your business.'' 
 
 The young man relaxes. He will have to change his major, which is disappointing, but it might prove for the best, anyway. The regime will be far less suspecting of a German major. 
 
 `` I do apologize for the inconvenience,'' the official says from behind him. `` You've been here all night, and had neither dinner nor breakfast. Are you hungry?'' 
 
 The young man laughs. `` Are you kidding? I could literally eat a --'' 
 
 The official never learns what animal the young man intended for his idiom, as he had already leveled his pistol at the back of the boy's head. Sensing a small twinge of disappointment emanating from his thwarted curiosity, he quickly buries the thought, and he wipes the boy's blood off his gun with a handkerchief. Such niggling thoughts are human; enjoyment of idiom is a weakness that can be found in all men. But pure language must not suffer any insurrections against its order. 
 
 Edit: small fixes.
