With dozens of writhing muculent Lovecraftian tentacles, Plato sported a pearly shell on her shaven head that twirled into a Fibonacci spiral like a soft serve twisted witch's hat. Elaborate tattoos adorned her heliotrope-tinted arms, shoulders, and neck. "Earth was once covered with water. The look I am after here is retro!"

The hotshots swooped down with top gun skills in perfect unison like a minuscule aerobatic air show in front of the tempest in a teacup ride. Plato's dark eyeliner accented her glowing irises and constricted slit pupils. Her translucent eyelids blinked horizontally and widened with fear as she recoiled, "That sofa is hopeless! I'm not here to judge... but this guy needs a shrink." The outlaw burgeoned into a huge wriggling mass to telescope the mortal named Noy from behind, but the covert operatives literally on the down low shrunk the big bad.

While the size inclusive band of enforcers struggled with the fashionista, Noy pulled on a wrinkled shirt with the slogan "I paused my game for this?" as he plunked on the couch. His phone vibrated repeatedly then took a message. The woman's voice on the speaker complained how he never listened and she was tired of being taken for granted. Like how he kept getting plain yogurt instead of vanilla and he just couldn't get they're not the same.

"Care stuff. Cares..." Noy said softly in singsong as if answering the voicemail while channel surfing on his man-sized TV for something good to watch, but disappointed every station only broadcasted breaking news about a solar eclipse occurring later that day.

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