ENTER: A blank, black screen. Two men talking.

PESTILENCE: You ever watch this flick called "Falling Down"?
UNKNOWN: Can't say I have.

UNKNOWN sounds oddly jolly. There is a low, barely-audible undertone to his speech. It sounds almost like music.

PESTILENCE: It's an Earth Aleph flick. Basically, there's this guy who snaps in traffic and kills a bunch of people along the way.
UNKNOWN: I'm not following.
PESTILENCE: I'm getting there.

CUT TO: PESTILENCE, a white, middle-aged man with a receding hairline, sitting in a cubicle. The air-conditioning is shot. As he types on his clunky desktop, he mops at his brow intermittently. A broad-shouldered man, crisply-dressed in a double-breasted suit, appears, prompting PESTILENCE to look up. They have a brief exchange before the man dumps a pile of documents onto PESTILENCE's desk and strides off. PESTILENCE pinches the bridge of his nose.

UNKNOWN: That guy had a wife. He had a kid. He even had a car. Did you have any of those?
PESTILENCE: No. Not really. Look, I'm just trying to tell a story here.

CUT TO: A pair of cheap leather shoes stepping over a hand gone slack. ZOOM OUT to reveal PESTILENCE, still dressed in his sensible shirt-and-trousers combo. The tension is gone from his shoulders. Around him, the entire floor has dissolved into chaos as insects flood from the air-conditioning vents, biting and stinging. A number of people are slumped at their desks, unmoving.

UNKNOWN: Are you still employed at that company?
PESTILENCE: Don't really know. It all feels like a rather long time ago.

CUT TO: PESTILENCE entering an office. The broad-shouldered man from earlier is lying, slumped boneless, in his large, comfortable chair. His eyeballs have liquefied. PESTILENCE places an envelope on his desk labelled "RESIGNATION".

PESTILENCE: I think I resigned, actually.
UNKNOWN: Hmm. All right. I don't think there should be a problem there.
PESTILENCE: Yes. I'd hate for there to be anything improper about this arrangement.

CUT TO: PESTILENCE entering a green 1972 AMC Hornet. He turns the key in the ignition, chuckles under his breath, and drives off, revealing the Hornet's original owner writhing on the sidewalk, covered in bees.

PESTILENCE: Anyway, that's why I'm here. I don't think I'm a wanted guy right this instant, because I haven't seen my name or my face on the TV, but I figure I could be an asset to the company. If you'll have me.
UNKNOWN: I see. I see. Well, everything appears to be in order, so I'd be happy to welcome you to the organization personally.
PESTILENCE: It's an honor, sir.

CUT TO: UNKNOWN rising to his feet, revealing himself to be THE BIG CHEESE. He envelops PESTILENCE's hand in a crushing grip.

THE BIG CHEESE: You're hired!