There. It passed. "Thank Heavens! I was getting worried!" Thanks, friend of friends. Now, where was I? Oh, yes: Barely have we had time to savor this one, small victory in the war against the most repugnant and soul-destroying atrocity afflicting mankind today when we're tossed upstairs into Dean Smith's office, where the gentleman in question pulls up The Pornmeister's personnel files to learn The Pornmeister was set for retirement in a mere two short weeks. Dean Smith gapes. And looks very, very pretty while doing it, if I may say so myself. "You may!" Consider it done.
Down in tech support Hell, Sam Wesson wheels his chair back to Xandir's veal pen and wonders, "Why would someone kill themselves two weeks before they were supposed to retire?" "I don't have time for this!" Xandir snaps, pushing himself away from the keyboard upon which he'd been furiously tapping, for his recent jaunt up to human resources apparently put the fear of God in him -- he's even wearing the corporate-approved tech support polo and chinos now. Sam Wesson thinks Xandir's exaggeratedly altered attitude's nothing more than a joke, however, and breaks his coworker's balls for going so far as to shave that morning, but Xandir abruptly shuts the conversion down when he receives a call from the executive floor, and he rises immediately to leave. DUN! I think. I mean, I'm pretty sure, but I've lost track of what happens when during this episode, so I'll toss that a DUN! just for the hell of it, anyway. "Wise decision, indeed!" You know something I don't, my scaly friend? "Not at all! I'm just trying to be helpful." Ah. Gotcha. Thanks. "Not a problem, I'm sure!"