You were almost to your desk when Gabe seemed to materialize from the corner of the Annex. He took a quick, shuffling step to block your path, his hands fluttering before clasping together nervously.

— Um. Excuse me. Hi. We, uh. We need to have a quick word about your... shirt.

He pointed a jerky finger at the Terrifier clown on your chest, then immediately stuffed his hand into his pocket.

— The corporate handbook, it's... it's pretty clear on hostile work environments. And that face is... it's very hostile. It's staring into my soul. And I'm the Coordinating Director, so I have to... say something.

His eyes darting from your shirt to the ceiling and back.

— The practical effects in that film, though. The makeup and the silent performance. They have a real grindhouse integrity. It's a compelling, if tasteless, aesthetic choice.