Per 
Doctor Margin was not what one called a happy man. He was not what one called an angry man.
Doctor Margin was grumpy. It was as simple as that. He was always grumpy. Every day when he woke up, he was grumpy. Every night when he went to bed, he was grumpy. Why was Margin grumpy? Let's find out, shall we?
"Whoever the fuck you are, fuck off," Margin muttered to someone on the other side of his office door.
"Margin open up, we need you," came the voice of Lang.
"No, fuck off, whatever it is can fuck off," Margin said again, not raising his voice. Of course, he already knew what it was that could fuck off.
"Look, we drew straws this time. I swear I'm not trying to be mean or anything-"
"You drew straws?" Margin said, raising an eyebrow. "Ah, I see. You drew straws in order to determine you'd ask Margin to use that fucking puppy murdering machine again, didn't you? Because you all know what will happen if you do ask."
"Margin, be reasonable, we're just trying to-"
"Shut up. I'm not playing your stupid fucking game anymore. First, it was God Himself who took it. Then, fucking Valve fucked me over. Then that fucking machine didn't give me a cookie on purpose!"
"You don't know that-"
"I do, Lang! I totally fucking do! That machine hates me!"
"I don't even remotely believe that machine is capable of hate."
"Bullshit!"
Lang sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"What's going on?" said a voice, and when Lang turned around, he found himself looking at Clef. Great.
Before he could answer again, Margin did. "They want me to murder a puppy and not get a cookie!"
