An entry level job at the local drug cartel.

I'm driving my car. The drug cartel/mob boss, who looks like Donald Sutherland, is in the passenger seat. We have an argument, a scuffle, and I strangle him with the ceiling cargo net. Somehow I get his body into the backseat.

I'm irritated because now this is going to make me late. I have to meet a friend.

I hit the "Destination" button on the GPS, but it's not responding. The screen finally appears and I hit the address for my friend. Stupid Lady (GPS) is very detailed in her instructions. I need to turn around, so she has me made a left turn, but tells me "there's a car stalled in the turn lane. Go around it. And then..." I make the left turn, down a steep, curved road and end up at a complex of storage units. I drive around between the units and stop for a moment, contemplating what I'm going to do about the dead mob boss in my backseat. I get a text message from Ann, but I have to ignore it. I get another text message from Vince telling me to "Make sure the auditor is wearing those roof shoes."

I get back in the car and decide to head to The House. As I'm driving, I notice the beauty of the landscape. I don't recognize the city. It's sunny, beachy, lots of water....a series of islands.

I arrive at The House. I leave the dead guy in the car in the driveway and go in. I nonchalantly explain how I killed him to two other low-level cartel employees. "Come on, help me get rid of the body." We head out to the car. As I approach the car, I notice that he's moving. I open the door and say "heeeeey, you're alive!" while thinking, "he's going to kill me now."

We get him out of the car and I quickly walk back toward the house. Boss man takes a different route but catches up to me. "Are you going to kill me?" I ask. "No, I think you'll have to do the audit. You know....the deaths and the vats? You should talk to the girl who put roofing tiles on her moccasins." "Like shingles?" "Yeah, shingles." I have no idea what he's talking about, but soon learn that the area cartels rotate and audit each other and part of this audit involves vats of acid where you should wear shingle shoes.

Later I'm handed a professionally bound workbook with the reports of all the past audits. I flip through and read the comments and think, "somehow these people survived the vats."

Mob Boss comes over and tells me they've just done audits, so I'm safe until next year. And then I start contemplating how to accelerate your death when pushed in a vat of acid.