Somedays, I can't even remember life before the CEO invasion.
It's like a nice, pleasant dream that you wake up from--the details of which are all still fresh: so profoundly rich, and vivid and real, lingering in your mind like the tune of a happy song, as you go about your morning routine--
And then, suddenly, it's gone. Not just faded, but completely wiped from all memory...
Now, imagine: on top of that, aliens are invading. They take your super hot girlfriend, to convert her into their own form of legal tender. They drag you out of your house, and make you their slave; though, not the "dressed in rags, dragging a ball and chain" variety, toiling away in some mine—as you might be thinking—but rather in a suit and tie, working as an ordinary salaryman in their cold, soulless mega-corporations.
My name is Archie Doolittle, and this is the story behind the Hell my life has become.
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