"Vhat ve need," the Reich-Marshall cried out in exhaltation, "is snazzier uniforms und better music - zhen ve vill be TRIUMPHANT!!" To punctuate his outrageous statement, Von Schtupid lept from behind his desk and clicked his jackbooted heels together before landing an awkward pas de deux in front of the Leftenants.
They glanced nervously at each other and the ancient crystal Goblet on herr Von Schtupid's desk.
"Your drinking vessel - it is an antiquity, yes?"
"Yavol, it belonked to Ceasar himself, und now I am in possession of it's magical leadership powers!"
"Lead, mein fuhrer; it contains lead which will poison your blood and make you crazy!"
"Crazy? HA! I'll show you crazy. Zhese steps vere shown to me by a young student of Balanchine's ve captured only last week, and zhey vill garauntee us victory in Varsaw."
While the Reich-Marshall changed into his pointe shoes, the leftenants quietly snuck out of the office, ditched their uniforms and ran for the nearest border, seeking asylum from whomever would take them.