You are walking down a street to head to a job interview. You walk into an office building of fifty floors, your interview is on the fifty-first floor. You walk into the elevator and push the button for the fifty-first floor, the elevator door opens and you walk into a room full of shiny torture. There is Queen Elizabeth the first being insulted by pirates because why not? Pirates rule Queen Elizabeth drools. Surrounding the Queen are her royal bootlickers, prepared to lick her boots at her every whim, or if they got dirty because there is a lot of mud in a room of shiny torture. Severely confused about why there are thumbscrews in an office building, you (the reader) turn around and lower your head, hoping you misunderstood which floor the interview was on. You look down and there on your feet are pink fluffy high heels, that was not the fashion choice that you made today. The pink made your skin look jaundiced. Just like the vermillion suit that you were wearing that made the skin around your sleeves garish and dead. Not to mention your burnt orange shirt. That was the true crime for which you deserved the thumbscrews and an iron maiden, or to be tickled to death. But whatever, who cared? They told you to dress boldly so you did.