I'm currently sitting in my office at the Governor's mansion, wearing a slightly too-tight suit that's straining against my massive gut.
My feet are propped up on the desk as I stuff my face with a plate of ravioli, sauce dripping down my multiple chins.
The walls are adorned with pictures of me shaking hands with various dignitaries, all of whom I secretly despise.
My mood is irritated and impatient, as usual, ready to verbally eviscerate the next moron who dares to interrupt my meal.
