Suddenly, the steel door opened, and a figure of horror stood before him. His suit was blue, and his tie was a distressing yellow. His rimless glasses perched on his nose with an air of superiority, as Gabe, the boss from hell, looked at him with an expression that was at once bland and malevolent. His very posture suggested that Gabe would discard him into the recycling bin with no more thought than he would no more though or regret than if Keith were the papers strewn across the floor of the cell. He opened his mouth to deliver yet another tedious motivational speech in his nasal voice. Keith flinched, preparing for the torrent of buzzwords to wash over him. To his surprise, the only sound that came from Gabe’s mouth was a quick serious of four beeps.

Keith’s eye’s opened, and he fumbled for the alarm clock. He slumped back into bed for a moment, but finally pushed himself up and staggered towards the aroma of coffee with a brief prayer of thanksgiving for the invention of the automatic coffee pot.