Dude, what did you do?

What are you talking about? And who are you?

I’m your conscience. Call me Jiminy if it’ll make you feel better.

Fair enough. So what’s the problem?

The problem? Oh, just the dead guy on the rug.

He’s not dead. Just…snoozing.

Hello? Conscience? As in, inside your damn head? I saw the whole thing!

Oh, all right, maybe he is dead. Not my fault though. These things happen.

Yeah, that’ll fly well with the police. “Sorry officer, it was an unexpected kitchen knife-related incident. Nothing to see here.”

Worth a try, wouldn’t you say?

Much as I hate to admit it, if you end up in prison for the next sixty years, so do I. So what can we do about this?

Well, hiding the body would be a good start. Then…I don’t know, fleeing the country? I have no idea how these things work!

We could talk to our social worker. He’d know what to do.

Good idea. But, I might suggest, not very useful.

Why?

Have another look at the rug.

Ah. So what do you think about this?