The hipster at the bar look like Frank Sinatra

The hipster at the bar look like Frank Sinatra on a 60's album cover. What goes around, she thought. Still, he was cute, in an earnest way, so she bought him a drink and

a nice electric collar. She would make a businessman out of him yet, whether or not he liked it. One Mulan-esque musical montage later,

he strode into the room, suited up, and briefcase in hand. He put his case down on the conference table, leaned forward to address the room, and suddenly collapsed in pain. When

his head hit the marble floor, everyone else in the conference room ignored him. They whistled and shrugged, successfully avoiding responsibility. Luckily, into the room strolled

to get my "crunk" on. Me and Billy Mays' ghost (who looks a lot like Billy Mays, except slightly transparent) went down to the "Tool Box" to troll for

cleaning hammers and dust-wrenches, two objects Mays had planned to telesell before his untimely death. Reflecting on the lost opportunity, the ghost of Billy started to cry. Drunk

out of his mind, but still somehow cogent (probably a ghost-thing), he contemplated his future as a disembodied spirit, and wailed at the unfairness of it all. "BUT THAT'S NOT ALL"

He felt the impending doom of the large yellow ball. "Eating and eating and eating." Rushing through the labyrinth of pills. What happend to Inky? If he could only find a wasy to

end the terror. Then without warning his skin changed from blue back to pink just as the yellow monster rounded the corner. He grabbed the pacman who wilted. *Game Over*