Morning Spam

[Undiscussed Horrific Abuse, One Victim of Many]

-----

Evening.

Boss is sitting on a street corner, holding a teddy bear with a pacifier in
his mouth, bawling and bawling and bawling.

On the other side of the street is a BossCorp Corner Store, completely
engulfed in flame. People are running amock wearing medical masks, yelling
slogans like "I'm not so sure about Boss!" and "There are weapons
corporations a little better than Well-Respected Psionic Weaponry
Corporation!"

Boss sobs and sobs and sobs.

An economist cleanup worker who has been mostly turned into a robot comes
over to console Boss.

Boss [sucking on pacifier, holding teddy bear tightly]: "These plebs don't
love me. They don't love my businesses. They don't love covering up my
crimes. I don't know what to do." Boss sobs and sobs and sobs!

Economist: "It's okay. We'll get through this. Things will get better."

Boss keeps sobbing and the economist holds him, rocking him while singing a
lullaby.

Street rioter: "Sometimes I think of other businesses and other
billionaires!"

Boss sobs and sobs and the economist holds him.

Economist: "Lullaby, lullaby, all these things will get better. Lullaby,
lullaby, wait on the morrow moon."

Street rioter: "Occasionally I want to make things myself rather than buy
them from Boss!"

Boss's pacifier quivers as he clamps down on it.
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