It's an obvious fake

 When the following picture arrived at the massive 23B office complex the other day it was brought to me on a silver platter, the normal protocol for all the photo submissions.

The 11 by 14 transparency lay on the huge light table I use as a work desk. To further set the tone, I might also point out that my absurdly large corner "CEO" office swallows the normal office furnishings and I have had to include an entire Wahoos Fish Taco store, with staff, to fill up the space.

But we had bigger fish to fry, so to speak, because fish are never fried here at 23Breaths but coaxed to culinary perfection through a top secret grilling process. 

"It's an obvious fake" I said after studying the image for no more than a few seconds.

The staff let out a collective sigh of fear and loathing not heard this side of the inland empire in ages.

"I can't go right to save my life" I said, the staff looked around nervously making that nervous humming sound they make when I have blown their little collective mind with some new cosmic revelation.  They all worship the very ground I walk on , its all very charming in a naive sort of way, and the very thought that I might have some slight imperfection is such a foreign thought that they were stunned into a collective lump of inanimate humanity. 

After a few moments, my wife walked in, looked at me with, well you know, THE LOOK and without a word flipped the transparency over revealing a here-to-fore undiscovered image of me going left, probably from last years mat meet.

Sadly I don't remember the wave, the day or most of last year for that matter.

The staff was enormously relieved and were able to crank out another edition of 23B before heading home to live there lives out in quiet desperation.

Photo probably taken by Ken Samuels.