Work, rest and play

Let me tell you why you are here QT.

Can I interrupt for a moment Mr. Möbius? Will this involve graphic references to gynecologic type trauma, afterbirth and placenta pancakes?

No, that costs extra. You are here because ...

I need a holiday: to get away from the daily grind, the endless commutes back and forth, the job that in no way satisfies me artistically, intellectually and fiscally?

Can I finish my sentence?

I don't know, can you?

Or do I have to tear you into a strip so your entrails form a single, continuous surface with only one fleshly edge?

Please continue.

You are here because you have a nagging doubt on your shoulder like a monkey-parrot mother. It's like there's a constant itch on your back you just can't reach because you're overweight, out of shape and have statistically short arms relative to your body size. Do you know what I am talking about?

I'm not entirely confident you know what your talking about; so what hope have I?

It is the world that has been designed to pull the cotton wool over your eyes, the truth ...

The truth?

The truth is you are a slave QT.

But I already know that. Look, clause 2.3.2.1 of my contract: To any and all intent and purpose, you are a company "slave", but employment law does not permit us use such a term in your job description and, therefore, your official title will be the conveniently less emotive synonym of "Office Manger".

You were born into bondage ...

What I do in my spare time stays in rubber Vegas.

You take the blue bean and ...

Is that one of those cock sweets? You know the ones they spam you about with subject headers like - limp biscuit in bed?

... you wake up in your bed and have difficulty urinating for the next forty-eight hours. You take the red bean and you spend the next week off your moobs. Remember, all I'm offering is a cheap alternative to a real holiday ...

Cool.

[Gulp.]

Did you ever dream you were a butterfly, carefree, fluttering around? A dream so real, you didn't know you were QT, only to suddenly awake as you, QT? And then you ask yourself was it QT who had dreamt he was a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming he was QT?

I think Chuang Tzu's original point is that we are not merely the form by which we appear to ourselves and others, but ...

Silence butterfly! One final thing ...

[Thunder claps, lightening strobes, dramatic swell of incidental music.]

Beholdeth! Welcome to the desert of the real desert.

We haven't really gone any anywhere have we?

Your ticket to Mars. We couldn't afford a Sharon Stone lookalike, but here's Madge instead, she used to be famous for her pointy brassiere. Tip to the wise: don't ask her to take them off. Now enjoy your holiday.

How much to throw in the blue cock bean sweet?

An extra trillion. Live the dream.