Frightened Worker 3: "I haven't read your email because I don't want
   Boss to rip my arm off."
    Frightened Worker 5: "I don't want to tell you here because I don't
   want Boss to burn my leg off."
    A cart rolls by with a sign on the side saying "Hearse." Boss's Corpse
   is laying rigid in the cart, his hand still raised in command. His eyes
   are Xs and his tongue is hanging out.
   Frightened Worker 4: "I don't want to give you my encrypted contact
   information because I don't want Boss to remove my genitalia."
    Frightened Worker 2: "I don't want to cover up your communications
   because I don't want Boss to make me murder my spouse."
   The cart rolls by the other way, this time slower. Boss's Corpse is
   shaking left and right, and his head is lolling off to the side. The
   workers pushing the cart are eating cake, wearing party hats, and
   singing, "Boss is dead, Boss is dead, we don't have to obey, we don't
   have to obey. No more fear! No more slavery! Boss is dead! Boss is
   dead!"