The armadillo walked into his boss’s office.
His boss was a giraffe. They worked for the CIA.
“I just got a new report,” the giraffe said, nodding towards a piece of paper. “It is bad. It says that terrorism is down all over the world. The President has authorized you to fly a drone over a Yemeni wedding and kill all the innocent people there. There needs to be a ratio of dead women to children of 1.618. 1.618 is the golden ratio. It is hidden in the Apple logo, which is itself a reference to Adam and Eve biting from the forbidden fruit of knowledge.”
The armadillo went to lunch with his friend the grey squirrel. The armadillo got pizza and the grey squirrel got a cheeseburger, with wild fries.
“Do you ever think about quitting?” the armadillo asked.
“Are you joking? Every single day. Why?”
“My boss wants me to kill a bunch of people and I don’t want to do it. I don’t know. I just feel like, I’m making the world a worse place and I don’t necessarily enjoy what I do.”
“What else would you do? Like for money.”
“I don’t know.”