From the Desk of Archibald Hopper:
An Exercise in Sarcasm: by Mr. Gold.
Diary Entry Number Seven
To Be Read in an Insipid Pantywaist Voice
Dear Diary,
Today, I have set up a Hugging Booth for myself and Mr. Gold! Since I am so sure of myself and not at all awkward or virginal, I've also prepared a list of ice-breakers – you know, like pimps do when they're picking up young women to kidnap, beat, and harass. Or like pimps do, when they teach classes about the same.
I think it will go well.
Because my patient has issues with 'intimacy,' I in all my infinite psychological wisdom, with my shiny medical degree, have decided to make him hug people. Any people! Anyone at all! Of course, he doesn't get to choose which ones because that would be rational, and I haven't thought of the fact that some people might hock loogies on his Chanel coat, and that some of those loogies have blood.
(Twat.)
Amongst today's topics, I have also decided to ask him about why he's so competitive, even though he's not. In doing so, I think I will point out lots of really obvious things about competition, because being obvious is ever so much fun! For instance, I think I will point out that competing often gets you better jobs – I bet he doesn't know that! And I'll point out that cowards get nothing-
THIS WILL BE SO MUCH FUN.
Love, Hopper.