My desk was piled high with papers, several of which were on fire. A couple of weeks ago Fargo had put me in charge of finding a new artist, but my Herculean efforts have gone largely unrecognized.

Fargo called me again this morning. "I'm still in Vegas," he declared. "But keep that on the down-low. I've bought some fake IDs from a guy outside the Lucky Strike Pawn Shop and Bail Bonds place, so for the time being call me Juan."

"Fargo why are you-"

"JUAN, I said to call me JUAN!" he barked back at me. "You see, somebody translated my Top 10 Real-Time Strategy Games of All Time list into Korean, and now the Professional StarCraft League has put a price on my head of over a billion Korean Won. I think that's like a hundred million US dollars. I'm not sure. In the meantime, I'm living out of a Buick and talking only on pay phones."

"About the artist search..."

Fargo was happy to change the subject. "Oh yes! Did you get my fax?"

"Yes I did," I replied. "And the artwork you submitted appeared to have been done by a horse. On further research, I discovered that it was, in fact, drawn by a horse. One who is very bad at art, even by the admittedly low standards of his breed."

"But you have to look at the big picture," Fargo whispered into the phone. "You have to look at how he and I would work together creatively. And, frankly, I think I could really bounce ideas off of a horse. Horses are big."

"His portfolio is a smudgy hoof print!" I howled. "The ink was mixed with hay and manure!"

"He really wants the job, I think that counts for something -- oh damn -- do you speak Korean? There's some guys outside my Buick with MAC-10s. They uh -- I'm leaving. Think about the horse."

Then the phone went dead.