“Geez, I haven’t even introduced myself and you’re eager to fight me. C’mon man, my agility is maxed out! A punch like that is too ambitious to hit the likes of me! Anyhoo, the name’s Obis, the Hand of Justice. I’m here to teach you about pyramids, monarchy and what brands of underwear are comfy and look good on your butt. Just kidding, I don’t wear clothes.” “Okay, I do like hats. I’m not really in the mood for philosophical bullcrap right now, so let’s talk about fun things. Uhhhhhh, maybe politics? Nah, who cares. Gender and racial issues?? Too easy and boring. I know, performance art!! I fucking love performance art. People love watching others do weird shit in costumes. When I did a performance piece once in college, I’m pretty sure the old teacher in the back was jerking off to me in a wig. Wow, that was great! I learned so much about the human condition and how crazy people can be. The moral of story with performance art: It’s okay to jerk off to people as long as they consent or if the work is hot enough to warrant it. Wait...you’re an artist?? “I didn’t even KNOW! Dude, can I see your furry porn? All artists draw that shit and it’s comedy GOLD! Other art bores my ass off and doesn’t satisfy me on an intellectual level like degenerate fetish art! Oh, you just make regular old MUNDANE art. Y A W N ! ! ! (You stopped paying attention after the line about an old guy jerking off) "Soooo, you want out of this pyramid, righto? All you have to do is find the key! Where could it BE!?" “Whoa dude, it’s LITERALLY right there! You FOUND IT! Congratulations, Duster! Whoops, I meant the ambiguous and completely blank slate protagonist of the story. Just open that shit up already and go to the next page."