I want to see you in my office, Dan. You've gone way too far this time. What do you mean, sir? What do I mean? You recalibrated the milk carton-cutting machine so that the blade hits the assembly-line workers' fingers. Oh... that. I need them for the necklace I'm making. From human fingers...?!! It's worth a try. This blood-caked machete I've been carrying doesn't seem to discourage my customers from phoning in complaints about the poor service I've been providing.
