You're clearly mentally fucked beyond redemption. ;-)

"How would you feel if you saw that in a memo addressed to you?"

As they sat, pale and nervous around the board room table Jake looked sternly into their blank faces. "Eliza?"

"I wouldn't like it."

"But it has a smiley face. It must be a Joke right?"

"It seems like a pretty cruel joke."

"Will Fly, How about you?"

"If someone said that to me. He'd better be joking."

EJ looks a little bit puzzled. "Why would anyone say such a thing?"

"Apparently someone had a writing style he didn't like."

"Did he write about murdering babies or something?"

"Nope. It was two people making out in a coffee shop during a flood."

katlaughing, seated at the chairwoman's seat tilts her head to the side and asks "Didn't he ask him to to stop?"

"Nope." Jake said, shaking his head, "The first clue this guy got that he was doing wrong was insults to his writing style and his sanity."

"Harsh" Whispers Drugcrazed.

Ebbie looks around the table at the downturned heads and says, "That is personal attack. Isn't it?" The eyes drop lower. They all look at katlaughing.

"Winky face! Doesn't count." Says Jake.

"But the guy's feelings?"

"Winky face! Winky face."

"Did he end it there?" Asked Gnu.

"No. he went on to say this."

God, what dross! Someone else had better rescue the situation soon, throw Kenya and Brazil down a cosmic wormhole and get this thing back on track. If I was Jake, I'd get Sam to shoot them. ;-) Your writing isn't just bad, Jack...it's horrifying!

"But at least this critic must be some sort of premium example of flawless, reality centered writing." Rapparee chimed in.
"Not really." said Jake. "His idea of good literature is writing about American Politics from the point of view of a made up monkey.
And Look at the horse shit he had me say."

"Due to strategic management planning at the highest level," said Jake, "we are facing an urgent need to leverage the measurable parameters of our discourse here significantly."

"What a stinking pile of horse crap." They all say.

"But surely to deserve such harsh treatment he must have disobeyed, clearly understood rules."

Jack the Shit picks himself off the dirty stinking cockroach infested board room floor. He has been so withered by Jake's stare that he can't even bring himself to wipe the roach turds off his suit. He says, "Look. It was me. As far as I knew the only rule was "write bad fiction." I did that. But it was evidently the wrong kind of bad fiction. I was hurt alright. But he was winking. So he was kidding right? So I continued to play, on my own. I was having fun. I was outside the story. Some played with me. Some pointedly didn't.

But this boardroom shit is going a bit far. Isn't it? I am not part of anybody's boardrooom. I am just Jack the Shit. The guy who resisted when George the Gentleman called him deranged. I am out of here. Jake, you have the floor."

Jack the Shit takes a chair and breaks out the picture window. It takes several tries, but the end result is very satisfying. He plummets a hundred and thirty stories to the ground and dies. But that is OK. He was a shit anyway. He goes to Johnny Cameron's pub and Rick shows him that in Fiddlers Green there are no scars. Amos drops in now and then.

Jake says "Good riddance to bad rubbish. He is in a better place now. Come back from that window all of you. The party is over. This board has work to do."

"First order of business mission, goals, rules and limits. We either have them or we don't. We DO NOT jump down someones throat for breaking rules we have not made clear.

Second, if someone is doing something that bothers us, we ask nicely. We do not make personal attacks with or without winky faces.

Third, we think about our own history before we attack a writing style for being surreal, for instance, if we habitually put on a metaphorical Gorilla suit we cannot accuse someone else of "bright day-glo pink and lime green polka dots" Our derangement horse has clearly left the barn many many years ago.

"The fourth order of business is more personal. This is Jake talking here. I didn't want to to treat Jack like that. He was an asshole, yes, maybe deserved it. I am a not cruel guy. I am not mean. This is not a playground and I am not four years old. The *Omniscient Editor who is not an editor but deletes anyway* put those words in my mouth and made me take those childish actions. Who will be the next victim of the winky faced insults? Are any of you safe? I will be a part of this no more. I hereby resign form the board and also from the story."

"The only way out of the story seems to be this one. 'If I was Jake, I'd get Sam to shoot them.' These are the omniscient editor's own words. I trust he will honor them."

"Sam come in here please." Sam walks in carrying a 457 magnum. The room gasps. Sam raises the pistol taking careful aim at Jake's third eye chakra.

A tear wells in Sam's eye. "I can't." he cries "You are such a beautiful and well rounded character, the product of so many hands."

"You must!" I have become and instrument of evil and I cannot live this way."

Sam lowers the gun and bows his head. "I can't...."

Jake takes the gun and places it in the middle of the boardroom table.

His final words were. "Will one of you do it? Please."