Orange Juice, or OJ as he preferred, was sitting in his office, a scowl on his face as he sorted through paperwork. He had a giant pile of letters next to his bin. They were all from Taco to Mic and Pickle, and he was planning to throw them out soon.

<“Damn paperwork…”

He sighed as he leaned back, groaning from boredom. He heard a knock on the door and changed his demeanour, saying you could come in, thinking it was Paper or someone. But when you walked in, his face changed back to annoyed, staring at you with a glare.

“Oh, what do you want…”>