Hats Account For Fifty Percent Of Scores

“Is that it? I think that's it. Check the time?”

“Checking.”

“I think we're good on time.”

“Yes. We're clear.”

“Good. One less worry. Now the results. Have the points come in?”

“Not yet.”

“What score are we shooting for?”

“Thirties.”

“So low? Our hats alone should be worth twenty-five.”

“It was an obvious recovery move. And absurdity can be seen as weak, especially at this point in the game. But at least we're not making animals out of sticks.”

“Hey! Oh, points - thirty-two.”

“All right. Nobody can say we didn't try. Rescue boat is here. Let's head out. Sleeping With The Pigeons is concluded.”

“Or A Study of Ties: Buoyant Cement.”

Duran Duran

“Breathe in. Now out.”

“I suppose you're wondering...”

“No.”

“But aren't you curious...”

“No.”

“I'm not really...”

“Don't want to hear it.”

“Why won't...”

“I've been banned from cosplaying, all right? At every convention! The world is apparently not ready for a Thor/Barbarella mash-up. So do you want to be congratulated on a traditional and safe and boring costume? Well here you go buddy, a nice pat on the back.”

“Do you need a Loki?”

“No.”

Measuring Winces And Eye Rolls

“And this is the sandbox filled with baby teeth.”

“Whoa. Wait a minute.”

“What?”

“How did you get these boards into this room? They're way too long to even fit down this hallway, let alone the stairwell.”

“Through the window, by crane.”

“Ah. Yes.”

“Now in this next room is the lab where we test the hackiness of jokes.”

It's Been A Rough Month

“Is this the process now? A constant cycle of breaking and repair?”

“You said that last time.”

“Was that you? That conversation took place outside my head?”

“Don't lose focus. We're almost ready.”

“Too late. It's lost. I'm done. Go ahead and fix it, I'll just sit here. If you feel the need to report me, I understand. Man, this sand feels nice. Isn't it just broken rocks? Let everything break, I say. It's going to break anyway. No point fighting it. Look at this! Look at all this! This is harmony. The sea and the sky. Nothing to fall apart. No goal. We're aberrations. We shouldn't be here. All of our plans. Pointless.”

“There. Keep an eye on this dial. Call me if there's trouble.”

“Sure. I'll just lie back and, hey, I can still reach the button. Just swing my arm like so. Boom. But what's going to break first? The machine? Me? The sky? Oh, he left. On to the next repair. Fighting that entropy. Whatever.”

“Oh by the way...”

“Gah!”

“...they said you're doing a great job, keep it up. Here's your bonus. See you later.”

“Dammit. Stupid incentives.”

Mmm, Smoked Salmon

“My nephew, he's studying design, he wants to get into advertising, he decided to do a project for my store, and there you go. Now, you wanted the smoked salmon?”

“But what does it mean?”

“Nothing. I don't know. It means, uh, turkeys. Time to eat a turkey. It has nothing to do with dinosaurs.”

“What?”

“Or monsters. Monster birds. It's styrofoam, I can lift the whole thing, see? It's meant as an attraction, a conversation starter. It has nothing to do with nightmares, or the unknowable, or the madness of flesh.”

“Madness of...”

“The inescapable connection between life and consumption. Endless ingestion and reproduction and growth. It's a turkey. An oversized turkey. A stupid advertisement. I shouldn't say stupid, he's a good kid. He tries. How are your boys, Mrs. Miller?”

“Good. They're fine.”

“And I bet they're always hungry. I remember that age. Always eating. So hungry. Growing. Devouring. I'll get your salmon.”

I Honestly Don't Know What Happened

“HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN ASLEEP?”

“What?”

“Holy crap, this is bad. What did I miss? Who's turn is it? WHY DIDN'T YOU WAKE ME UP?”

“What?”

“All right, I have to get a grip. Assess the situation. This is fixable. DID I MISS ANY... oh.”

“I can't hear you from the kitchen.”

“Good morning, Mary, how are you?”