I am lying down naked on a concrete table in a fancy restaurant. I have restraints around my neck, waist, wrists, and ankles. A group of friends come in and are seated at my table. Each has the head of an animal—a fox, a bear, a horse, a pig, an iguana. I cannot tell if these are people with masks on or people with the heads of these animals. A waiter comes over and the bear points to the menu, and the waiter says, “Ah yes, ‘The Hong Kong Harbor’. That's been very popular tonight. Right away.” The group is quiet as the waiter quickly comes back. “Here you are, your junk boats.” He hands everyone a perfect toy model junk boat. The centerboards and keels of each have sharp blades and on the stern there is a wind-up crank that makes the blades slice up and down, side to side, vibrating. As the waiter leaves, he puts a white cloth over my face. Then all of the boats are twist-cranked and placed onto my chest. As they circle, carving into my skin, blood spurts out, and begins to pour out onto the table. Red flecks fly onto the animals' faces as they lick their chops in glee. After a minute, the blades stop moving and they take the small boats out of my chest cavity. The waiter comes back with a portable hibachi griddle, steak knives and tongs, “Great show, huh? Now, where would you like the body to go? We can ship him to the local homeless shelter, we can spread his ashes into the ocean, or, if you like, for a small fee, he can have a proper burial ceremony.”