The gentle luminescence of the diner-style candelabra suspended above our booth was no match for the glow of our newfound engagement, excitement radiating from us as we discussed plans for our future together. The discussion had shifted to the wedding itself, most of which had already been coordinated by Lucy and her parents. They had booked the church and reception hall, hired a photographer and even picked out a wedding dress. I knew our correspondences leading up to my return home were all pointing toward “marriage”, but I didn’t realize how many eggs had already been placed in that metaphorical basket. I’m just glad the injuries I sustained at the end of deployment didn’t delay my return home by much. Our discussion was temporarily halted by Lucy going quiet. She stared greedily at the few mozzarella sticks that sat on my plate. When the appetizer came out, I quickly scooped half of the fried treats to my own dish, already knowing from years ago how rapidly they can vanish into the literal black hole that was now my fiance. In response to her lustful gaze, I placed an arm on the table between her and the plate, an impenetrable barrier of jiu jitsu to deflect any harpooning beaks. She tittered at this display. “I’m so much faster than you, you’ll never even notice those things are go- LOOK OVER THERE!” Her pathetic attempt at deception only caused my defensive stance to strengthen as I shoveled the last two fried cheese logs into my gullet. She put on an exaggerated frown and puffed her cheeks. I replied with a smirk as I chewed and swallowed my rightful claim. She let out a “Hmph” noise as she crossed her arms and gazed at the now barren appetizer basket that sat between us. Her pouty look was swiftly replaced by one of hopefulness. “I wonder if we can have mozzarella sticks at the wedding.” I wiped the crumbs from the sides of my face with a napkin, my piglike appearance a suitable price to pay for not having my tasty artery-clogging delights stolen away. “I’d imagine you can ask. I think the catering menu is a little more high-end, but I’m sure frying up some mozz-sticks wouldn’t be impossible.” Her eyes went out of focus, peering toward a horizon I could not see. “Mmm… What about dino nuggies?” I shook my head and sighed. “Good Lord, woman. How are you going to fit into that wedding dress if you continue with this unhealthy obsession with carbohydrates?” She let out an exaggerated scoff, smiling as she played at being taken aback. “Beautiful at any size. You’d better still love me if I get fat.” Smiling myself, I raised an eyebrow and gave her a quick top-to-bottom scan. “Hmm… I’m not so sure…” Lucy laughed as she straightened up her posture, asserting a pose of authority. “There WILL be mozzarella sticks AND dino nuggies at the reception, and you WILL love me despite how well I fit into my wedding dress!” I resigned myself to my fate with a sigh. “Speaking of the reception, isn’t this going to be way too much food for our guest list?” “You can never have too much food at a wedding, Anon.” “Noted, my beautiful, voracious soon-to-be-wife. Still- if we’re going to have so much food anyway… are we sure there isn’t anyone else to invite?” It wasn’t the most tactful way to introduce the subject, but it was one I wanted to bring up this evening anyway. Since I returned home a week ago, Lucy had dodged and deflected every attempt I made to bring up Trish, Reed, Stella, Rosa or anything else related to Volcano High. She had three years to work toward repairing these bridges or, barring that, making other friends… but she didn’t. I was going to put my foot down. Lucy’s smile wavered slightly. “I’m pretty sure we sent out all the invites. I double-checked with my parents.” “And how many people do we have? Ten? Twelve?” She stammered, “I… we… We don’t have a large family. There weren’t that many-” I interjected, “Lucy. Why didn’t you invite any friends?” “... Naser is-” “I’m thrilled that Naser is coming, and I’m thrilled he is your friend, but he’s your brother. Most weddings also have friends in attendance.” She straightened up a bit and cocked her head at me. “What about you, Anon? Where are your friends?” “Don’t you deflect this at me. I was in the goddamn military. Any friends I made there are either halfway across the world, or neatly folded and presented to their parents in the form of an honorary flag and a salute. I have an excuse, what’s yours?” The leg up she had imagined was swiftly kicked from under her feet. She sank back into her seat, averting her gaze. “Anon, why are you doing this?” “Because you made a promise to me that you would work to improve yourself while I was gone. I didn’t specifically demand you make amends with Trish and Reed, but why did you stall? Why did you give up?” Her arms dropped to her side. She pulled her head further downward, unable to look me in the eye. “Anon, please… I’m sorry.” I had to break through this wall. This can’t keep being dodged. “You don’t need to apologize to me, Lucy. You need to explain what’s going on. Why aren’t you trying?” Her hands crossed her body. She gripped large handfuls of her feathers. “I did try, but it’s so hard… I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. “Lucy, you don’t need to apologize. I just want-” A sickening tearing sound cut me off. At first, I couldn’t identify what it was. I opened my eyes and glanced around, looking to see if the noise came from the nearby kitchen. Or was it a busboy wringing a washcloth? It wasn’t until I heard Lucy’s accelerating, panicked breathing as she began choking out more apologies that I turned my attention back to her. Blood. There was blood trickling down her wings. What- The clumps of feathers in her hands finally connected the dots. I sprang from my seat so quickly that I struck my head on the chandelier above our booth. The metal ring resounded with a loud “CRACK”, making Lucy scream and recoil backwards, clumps of feathers still grasped in her hands, blood sprinkling onto the cushion beneath her. I paid no attention to the abrasion or the fresh rivulet of my own blood that began working its way down the side of my head. I quickly circled the booth and put my hands on Lucy’s shoulders. “Lucy, what the fuck?! What are you doing?!” Her eyes were wider than I’ve ever seen them before, almost threatening to exit their sockets. Her diamond-shaped pupils rapidly dilated and expanded as her frenzied look sought purchase on any explanation. She could only stammer, “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-” My military training kicked in. I quickly grabbed a handful of napkins and began applying pressure on the bleeding patches in her wings. There wasn’t a life-threatening amount of blood being lost, but it was enough to require first aid. As I grabbed another handful of napkins, I locked my eyes to hers. Her frenetic gaze and uncontrolled apologizing paused for a moment and she stared back at me, gasping for breath. “Lucy. It’s okay. I’m here. It’s okay. Just look at me.” Her eyes stayed connected to my own, growing redder, beginning to swell with tears. With a bundle of mashed, bloody napkins held to each of the wounds on her wings, I continued to reassure her. “I’m here, Lucy, I’ve got you. But I need your help. I need you to hold these napkins against your wings, and we’re going to go out to the car. Can you do that?” Her eyes streaming tears and still affixed to my own, she gave a rapid nod and choked out a sound of affirmation. She released the grasp of feathers, her discarded pieces floating gently to the floor below the table. As she took the makeshift bandages in her hands, I stood from the booth and gently escorted her out. For a moment she broke eye contact with me, suddenly taking note of the gaggle of employees and other patrons who had gathered around, attracted by the commotion, offering their assistance and their phones to call for help. Her hyperventilation began again, but I quickly took the sides of head and turned it toward my own. “Don’t look at them. Look at me. You’re okay. We’re gonna go.” Her eyes didn’t leave mine until we made our way into the car. She only broke eye contact with me when she planted her face in my shoulder, sobbing apologies as I cradled her head. The bleeding had been stymied, but there were still streaks of dried blood caked to the lines of her wings which intermittently twitched painfully. The woman who I had just proposed to a few nights ago, broken and hurting in my arms… I will help her. I will be there for her. I will love her and get her to a healthier place. I will… — I’m jostled from my slumber by a gentle shake and a voice. “Anon, get up, you lazy-bones. You’re gonna be late for work.” Whatever dream had just been firing in my brain dissipated in an instant. As I open my eyes and the haze clears from my vision, I see my pterodactyl wife standing over me, towel wrapped around her naked body. Her hand is still on my shoulder and she smiles at me. “Well, good morning, soldier. Ready to ge- AHH!” I grab her wrist, giving a quick tug and swinging her onto the mattress. She giggles in protest as I assault her with kisses, the towel coming loose and exposing her form to me. “Nooo! Stop, you monster! You fiend! You’ll make us BOTH late for work!” Her complaints are muffled as my lips meet hers, and she returns the kiss. After too brief of a moment, she breaks our connection and looks down her snout seriously at me. “You are insatiable. And maybe if you hadn’t slept in so long, I could have accommodated your request. But we both have to get up, so GET UP!” With a heave, she pushes me off of her, sending me up to my feet next to the bed. I stumble backwards, momentarily surprised by her strength until I remember the advantage her species holds. She sits up, affixing her towel to her frame once again, and glances down at my manhood as I stand dumb-founded in front of her. She gives me a sly smile. “... Not what I meant when I said ‘Get up’, but I appreciate the enthusiasm.” I roll my eyes and make my way to the shower, cursing the fact that this is a workday. The cold water helps to cool my engine and the soap suds wash away my lustful thoughts. As I towel off and make my way to the bathroom sink, Lucy sits on the edge of the bed, fully dressed now and tying her ribbon to her crest. It’s a far cry from the studded “collar” she once wore around the same appendage. That said, the ribbon suits her perfectly and accentuates her beauty. I take care of my mirror-facing morning ritual: brush teeth, apply deodorant, shave head. A gift from the Mous family, passed down generation to generation, blessing its male heirs (and some unfortunate female heirs) with hereditary baldness. God help my children. I slide the straight-edged razor around the top and sides of my head, clearing a neat row of shaving cream with each pass. As I move the razor across the top of my forehead, I notice the small scar I earned for myself by bumbling toward my fiance mid-panic attack and clobbering my head on the restaurant chandelier. I rub at the marking with a pang of guilt. When Lucy noticed I had received the injury as we sat in the car that night, it nearly triggered a second episode and opened the floodgates of her tears once more. I had to repeatedly assure her I was fine; I chose not to mention that the rocket blast I survived did a lot more damage than a measly light fixture. But it wasn’t just this secondary near-miss in the car that made me feel remorse. It felt as though the entire ordeal was my fault. We were having a pleasant dinner, enjoying one another’s company, joking and laughing… and I had to open my big, stupid mouth and inflict a tremendous amount of stress on the woman I love. Even last night, I very nearly caused another incident by once again dredging up the past. Is this just how it’s going to be from now on? How can we even hope to get past this if every attempt comes to a screeching halt? “Hey, space cadet.” The sudden voice directly next to my ear makes me involuntarily jump. Lucy quickly places her hands on my arms. “Whoah! Didn’t mean to startle you. You were admiring your reflection for a while there.” I collect a towel hanging from a small hook and wipe the last few bits of shaving cream from my head. “Sorry about that… just deep in thought.” She slides her hands under my arms and onto my chest, peering at my reflection. A look of sadness overtakes her face as she rests her snout against my arm. “... I think I know why. And I’m… I’m sorry for the way I am…” I quickly turn and envelop her in an embrace. “Don’t say that. You are you. You are beautiful, caring and wonderful. You are the woman I married and the woman I intend to spend the rest of my life with. I know you’re strong enough to get through this, and I’ll be here with you every step of the way.” She looks up at me, fresh tears beginning to well up. I snatch a tissue from the side of the sink and dab at her eyes, taking care to not smudge her make-up. She places her hand on mine as I hold it to her face, gives me a smile, and leans forward to kiss me. I return the gesture. When our mouths finally part, I give a quick glance to the clock at the side of the bed. “You were the one telling me I was going to be late, but you’d better get a move on. Those kids aren’t gonna teach themselves.” “Mmm… you keep charming me, and now you’re sending me away? Fiiine… ” Lucy turns to leave the room, but just before she makes her way out of arm’s reach I give her a swift slap on the butt. She lets out a squawk and sharply rotates toward me, hands on her rump. Her smile betrays her incensed tone: “Anon, you SHIT!” “Payback for sneaking up on me while I was shaving. Now get outta here, you!” With a flick of her head and a “Hmph,” she makes her way into the hallway. Her hips sway and her tail twitches in a defiant manner. Before she turns the corner toward the front door, I call after her in a sing-song voice, “Have a good day, love yooou! ” She turns her head, giving me a look that implies she’s considering whether to respond or not, but her charade of anger is defeated as she giggles. “Love you too, Anon. See you tonight.” — “So, anyways,” Bill continues, “I’m in this chat room and this girl with an absolutely smoking hot anime avatar is flirting with me, right? And I’m in my ‘Cool Guy’ mode, so I’m playfully flirting with her back but not being overt about it. You know, testing the waters, seeing where this might take us. After a while, I ask her to send me some pics, and…” He brings his fingertips to his lips and makes an over-exaggerated ‘Chef’s Kiss’ motion. “... MWAH! Beneficio! She is a ten outta ten dino girl, Stegosaurus, I think, but the camera was angled down and all I could see was her face. And I can tell it’s not a deep-fake, no, no! This is the real deal, homie. I got myself a legit, honest-to-Raptor-Christ dino GF. At least, online. And I haven’t asked her to be my GF yet, I’m working on that. Oh, and-” The sound of my forehead bouncing off of my keyboard brings Bill’s endless secretion of word vomit to a sudden halt. The gesture was only partially performed in jest; I did, in fact, feel myself losing consciousness but decided to go “all in” on the bit and act like I actually did pass out. I know the act won’t stop Bill’s incessant prattling, but I silently pray to any deity that will listen that he gets the hint. Please let today be the day. “Whoah, you okay there, Anon? What, the wife keep you up late? Hehehe.” Bill’s portly stomach ripples with his chuckle, like a large glob of paraffin wax bouncing off the bottom of a lava lamp. He is a human, one of several others that work alongside me and a roughly equal amount of dinosaurs at this particular data processing center. Among everyone that works here, man and dino alike, Bill is my second least favorite person to be around. And because the gods are cruel and fickle, he is the one with whom I must share a cubicle. I rub my forehead, playing up the spectacle, and give Bill a half-hearted smile. “I am a bit tired, yeah. I really need to focus on this work, so-” Bill leans forward, looking intently in my direction. I instinctually lean back, not wanting to be any closer to this man than required for my work. He glances at the single photograph on my desk, a picture of Lucy and I from a day trip we took to the coast, and examines it for a moment. He then turns back to me, a smile composed of sinister curiosity creeping across his face. “So… what’s it like?” What. “... What is what like?” Bill scoots closer to me. My time in the military is pushing the needle in the direction of “fight” over “flight”; either way, I want to be anywhere but here right now. “You know… what’s IT like?” He licks his lips slightly, widened eyes expecting an answer to this wildly inappropriate workplace question. “Bill, I-” A booming voice from the cubicle corridor makes both of us jump. “What’s going on, ya fuckin’ skinnies?!” Its owner, a towering, burly pterodactyl, takes a step into the cubicle entrance, his wings remaining outside the partitions. I know for a fact that pterodactyls can retract their wings more than he’s doing; it’s such an obvious show of machismo that it makes me scoff whenever he does it. He looks from me to Bill, who rapidly pushes his rolling office chair the two feet it had traveled back to its position in front of his workstation. “Well, I should say, skinnie and biggie . KYA HA HA!” I mentioned that Bill was my second least favorite person I worked with. Allow me to introduce you to fucking Kevin. Bill’s cheeks turn a bright shade of red as he half-heartedly chuckles in response to Kevin’s “joke.” Kevin has made this same joke nearly every day since I started working here, and since Bill’s been at the company a lot longer than I have, I imagine he’s sustained similar abuse for a while. As much as I dislike Bill, I’m not about to make fun of the guy’s weight. I also highly doubt I could get into an honest-to-goodness fist fight with Bill, regardless of how much he annoys me with his endless chatter about his chat room girlfriends. Kevin, on the other hand… “Ohh, sorry, boys! Did I interrupt something romantic? I know you spear chuckers like to stay close, but I didn’t realize that meant being fags together! KYA HA HA!” His cackling laughter makes my blood boil. I have no earthly idea how this idiot is still employed here; he must be related to someone high up the totem pole. Nobody likes Kevin, not even the other dinosaurs. It takes every ounce of my patience, and the knowledge that being unemployed would mean a harder time for Lucy and I, to restrain myself from choking this moron out. I sigh. “What can we do for you, Kevin?” “Ohhh, you know. I’m just doing the rounds, making sure morale is where it needs to be. I want my good little buddies to have a happy work environment!” As he says this, he wraps an arm around Bill’s neck, pulls him in, and roughly tussles his hair. Bill flinches and lets out a sound of protest, but knows he is powerless to stop the pterosaur’s actions. Kevin releases Bill and looks at me, glancing at the top of my bald head. I fucking dare you. Instead of making a move at me that would have resulted in broken bones, Kevin rolls his eyes and recites his prepared statement. “I’ve been tasked by management to ensure that inter-company relations are at maximum efficacy and to address any concerns that may arise, especially those that could impact human-dino relations.” He shrugs. “I don’t know why management wants so desperately for us to get along with one another; personally, I think spear chuckers and dinosaurs should keep to their own lanes.” There was a time in my life when I would have laughed in this idiot bigot’s face and called him a meteor dodger. The military wiped any preconceived notion I had about humans and dinosaurs being unequal out of my mind. Besides minor differences in anatomy and strength, we all bleed the same. We were one entity; humans and dinosaurs alike shed their blood for our country. Hooah. Kevin suddenly leans forward, outstretching his hand. Bill instinctually recoils at the gesture, and I ball my fist, praying that this might be the day I get to uppercut a punk-ass. He does not touch Bill, nor myself; instead, he gingerly picks up the framed photograph of Lucy from my desk. He lazily scratches the bottom of his beak. “Tch. Figures.” I stand, both fists still clenched. “What was that?” Kevin looks me straight in the eyes, a wicked gleam foretelling his next words. “Sad to see it happen to my own kind. She’s not a bad looking ptero. Wasted on the likes of you.” He flares his wings outward even further, casting a shadow on my cubicle space. He grins malevolently and leans closer to ooze out his words with all the bile he intends them to carry: “Race-mixing filth.” As I cock back my arm, preparing to break this piece of shit’s face in half, something stops me. If you asked Kevin, he’d say it was his intimidating presence and raw masculinity that caused me to falter. Bill might say that our manager calling my name happened just in time to avoid bloodshed. However, neither would be correct. It was seeing Lucy’s face, smiling at me from the photograph in Kevin’s hand. Lucy, the woman who struggles with her own demons and needs my support. Lucy, the one from whom I’d be separated if I ended up in jail for killing a man, hateful and despicable as that man might be. Lucy, who would be left alone, crying out for help with no one there to answer. I have to be stronger. I have to do it for her. “ANON! My office, NOW!” The voice of my manager echoes across the cube farm. For several more moments, my eyes are locked onto Kevin’s face, target acquired and still awaiting orders to follow through with the missile launch. It’s not until Kevin scoffs at me and slaps the picture frame into my chest that I unclench my fist, grabbing the photograph before it can fall to the ground. He takes a step back, sizes me up with one last look of contempt, and turns away, finally retracting his wings so he can actually fit through the cubicle halls. My eyes don’t leave the back of his head until he’s fully out of eyeshot, and remain on his last known location for several more moments, just in case he were to decide to barrel around the corner and charge me. “ANON! I SWEAR TO RAPTOR CHRIST ON A CRACKER, IF YOU’RE NOT IN HERE IN THIRTY SECONDS, YOUR ASS IS GRASS!” The red finally fades from my vision. I let out a long, steady breath, lowering my heart rate and allowing my adrenaline to drop. I place the photograph of Lucy back on my desk and begin to make my way out of the cubicle, when I’m stopped by a voice. “... Sorry, man.” I turn to see Bill, eyes cast to the ground. “... Sorry for what?” “Kevin shouldn’t have said that. He was wrong. Sorry I didn’t stick up for you. Sorry you had to… deal with that.” Bill looks up at me, a genuine look of remorse on his face. I give him a small smile and a thumbs up. “Don’t worry about it, bud.” Maybe Bill isn’t so bad, after all. I hustle over to the manager’s office. As I step in through the door, I reflexively stand at attention. “Yes, sir, Sergeant!” The mountain of a man turns to me, black eyes peering from beneath a colossal cro-magnon brow. “At ease, soldier. And how many times do I have to tell you, don’t call me ‘Sergeant.’ It’s just Rick.” Behind the behemoth is a shelf lined with a multitude of awards and commendations, many of which were awarded for service and bravery. I relax my posture. “Yes, sir.” “JUST Rick, you jarhead moron.” “... Yes, Rick, sir.” He rolls his eyes, an almost unnoticeable action given the girth of his forehead. Rick seems to be a man out of time, a glimpse back to some of humanity’s oldest ancestors. His imposing stature is made no less intimidating by the series of scars marring his face, a noticeable chunk of his nose absent. Though he hasn’t shared any war stories with me, we understand each other in the language we were taught through the military. He served a long time before me, and in my eyes deserves my utmost respect. “It’ll have to do. Anon, I’ve got a project I need you to work on. It’s not an easy one, nor is it clean. Can I count on you?” “Sir, yes, sir! … Rick.” He gives me a softened look and a surprisingly gentle smile. Through it, I catch a vivid glimpse of Principal Spears. “I know I assign you some real shit projects, a lot more often than I do to the others. That’s because we’re born of the same cloth. I know I can count on you when things need doing.” I give a smile of my own. “... Thank you, Rick.” The smile fades from his face as he glances past me into the hall, in the direction of my cubicle. “Everything alright out there? Sounded like Kevin was at his usual bullshit.” It’s a slight consolation to know that Rick doesn’t like the asshole either, but equally disconcerting that he is powerless to do anything about it. I bite my lip. “Nothing I can’t handle, sir.” Rick lets out a gruff chuckle and looks back at me. “I’m sure you could handle it, son. That’s what I’m afraid of. Just try to keep your cool for now. There’s a lot of folks who want that son of a bitch gone. It’ll be a lot harder if we have to clean up the blood as we escort him off the premises.” I raise an eyebrow and smirk. “But he would be gone.” Another chortle rises from Rick. “Hah! Alright, enough yapping, get back to work. I’ll have Eileen send the files your way.” “Sir, yes, sir!” I stand at attention and salute. “Get the fuck out of here before I break you in half like the twig you are!” He swings his meaty finger around to point me back to my desk, but the grin on his face indicates he appreciates my combination of respect and taking the piss. When I make my way back to my cubicle, I find Bill to be absent. Probably that time of day where he turns the bathroom into an irradiated wasteland. I make a mental note to not go pee for the next hour and sit back at my desk. As I bring up my email inbox, I notice a green light pulsate on my phone which sits next to my keyboard. Huh… green? It pulses blue if it’s a text message, and red if the battery is low. What is green? I pick up the phone and unlock the screen. In the top, I see an icon with a small letter “F” in a text bubble. Oh, Faceboop. It must have installed some sort of messenger app when I updated it. Thankfully, folks at this company don’t really mind if you spend a few minutes on your phone, so I click the icon and take a look at the message: Reed S. [ 2:31 PM ] [ sup ] [ Hey, Reed. How’s it going? ] [ nb hbu ] Raptor Jesus, please tell me Reed doesn’t type like this all the time. I’m gonna have an aneurysm. [ I’m doing well, bud. What can I do for you? ] A set of ellipses appear for a few moments, indicating Reed is typing. [ … ] [ wanted 2 kno if u and fang wanna come over 2moro 4 lunch ] [ me n trish have off ] Shit. This is all coming a little sooner than I had hoped. I wasn’t even able to properly broach the subject with Lucy over dinner. She is NOT ready for a meet-up. [ I’m not so sure, man. I talked to her last night and… I don’t think ] I stop typing the message. As the “Send” icon hovers next to the incomplete thought, I reconsider. I don’t know if I need to air all of this trouble out quite yet. Lucy’s not ready, but… maybe I can do some personal recon. I delete the unsent message and start over: [ Lucy and I both work, and she doesn’t get much of a break since she’s watching kids. Would you mind if it was just me? ] [ … ] [ yeh np ] [ come over 4 lunch we r makiangohbaaahfjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj ] … Did he died? [ What? ] [ … ] [ sorry dropped phone baby in one arm loool ] [ heres address 1792 pickerd st ] I pull up Gruugle Maps on my work computer and type in the address. Oh… well, look at that. It’s only about a mile and a half away. [ Sounds good, man. When should I come over? ] [ 1230 ] [ Alright, boss. See you then. I’ll help troubleshoot your phone and figure out why your punctuation keys are broken. ] [ lol cu then ] I set my phone back on the desk and sigh. I’m not positive if going the whole “cloak and dagger” route is correct, but I’m running out of ideas. Maybe if I can discover how Reed and, moreso, Trish are feeling, I can work out some method to bring everything around to Lucy in a way that won’t cause an episode. I know she’s scared, so maybe I can assuage some of those fears with a little fact-finding. I silently ask the little Lucy in my head for her forgiveness for not telling actual-Lucy about my scheme, and pull up the spreadsheet I was sent by Eileen. … Oh, my holy God. What is this train wreck? Have these people never heard of a pivot table before?!