I had a dream about you. You were canned laughter, and I was a can of tomato paste. I was organic, but you were completely artificial. You thought people liked having you around, but I knew better. We all laughed at your fake laughter behind your back. But we were both deceived. I thought the people loved me too, and they did—at least, until the day they tried to eat me. Friends don’t eat friends, normally.