After a 72-hour drunk, during which I subsisted on nothing but sherry, vodka, bourbon, Relentless™ energy drink, and baby carrots, I awoke under my desk only to find some most perplexing developments. First item, at my desk:

Second, someone has posted a jumble of nonsense from my account.

Third, walking amongst the empty bottles and refuse strewn about the hallways, I have discovered that the dolls are multiplying:

This one, perched above Charles's nest:

This dead one in editorial:

Hiding amidst my dwindling supply of Relentless™, with some mark on its face:

Hiding in the shadows of the eerie, amatuerish busts at the base of the stairs to production:

And finally, this one, beheaded, standing directly in front of the door to Tim Keck's office:

I now know what I must do.

UPDATE: I'm off to the locksmith directly after I dive into Anthony's bottle of Jameson 12 Year and get rid of these cobwebs in my head.