Overwork and redemption

Abstract

Slop knew he had been overworking recently. He felt like death warmed up as he negotiated the front entrance of the Royal College of Surgeons on that dull September afternoon. Suffice to say, he was far from prepared for any sudden shocks to his dwindling system. But as he looked up, he found himself confronted by the ominous outline of none other than the Esteemed Editor, back for one final installment before leaving the Bulletin. He barely had the chance to open his mouth when his former boss began to address him. The familiar booming voice felt just like old times.