Red: Red sighs very deeply. “Ugh, don’t even get me started on her,” says red, before changing the subject.

New client intake. Louis P. is a Caucasian male of undisclosed age. Well dressed. No reported health problems, but physical condition appears poor. Face, gaunt. Gaze, dull. Skin, pale, like marble. Eyes, red, hyper-dilated. Client reports being unhappy about his current lifestyle. Practices “vile and morally repugnant” behaviors which cause him to “sleep all day and stalk the lonely streets all night, haunted by an insatiable thirst.”

Lincoln—that cocky bastard, he thought. Look at him. Sitting there. So sure of himself. Long legs crossed confidently, black stovepipe hat in his lap. Lean angular head slightly bent, tilted to one side. As if pondering some great thought when really he’s just trying to catch the conversation going on behind the door.

It was so convenient being Lincoln, thought William. So… unoriginal. Like a still life of a fruit basket.

“I’m so proud to stand before you after yet another year of increased profits. At this rate there is not a single competitor who can claim any more than 6% of the market share. The team that sits before me is the sole reason for this. It is your hard work, your extreme dedication, your attention to detail and inability to let anything, regardless of how small it may be, slide that allows us to grow while the rest of the market slows. With this team in place, their is no way we can fail. Now, do we have any… ah yes I can see a hand raised already, that’s what I like to see. You have a question?”

On a day there was a man. And on that day that man had an idea…a rotten idea. It involved taking a goldfish—a live one, not the snack—and placing it in his bottom. And not just one. As many as he could muster.