the penthouse has six rooms. the penthouse has eighteen rooms. the penthouse is a modern-day daedalus’s labyrinth. no one has seen gavin in weeks. the minotaur is pleased with its sacrifice.
there is always A Heist going on. you are uncertain what the details of this heist is. in fact, you cannot recall ever hearing any concrete details about a heist, only that it is A Big One. it is So Big. something rumbles nonspecifically in the distance.
every nondescript silhouette with a handlebar mustache is geoff ramsey. you cannot remember the last time geoff had a handlebar mustache. perhaps it has been centuries. a handlebar mustache the size of a rottweiler floats by. you tell geoff hello.
ryan has plants, for reasons you are unsure of. so many plants. a trail of leaves seems to follow ryan wherever he goes. ryan opens his mouth and bright green vines spill out.
you cannot remember the last time you did any work. you spend your days having romantic and sexual trysts with your friends. it seems unreasonable for any person to be having this much sex. you try to stop and find you cannot. condoms do not appear to have ever existed. why are you using that as lube. why are you using that as–
the b team is doing something Important and Necessary. you are not sure what that is. no one else appears to, either. when you ask b team, they disappear in a cloud of uncertain smoke. you are so glad b team is around to help.
a man named ray is dead. a man named ray is very much alive. a man named ray is both alive and dead. a man named ray perhaps did not exist at all. you get a different story every time you ask. you do not ask anymore.