We are at the pub. The kitchen has closed too early, but the landlord allows us to order pizza. So we are still at the pub.
Paul arrives with a singular goal: to achieve the Universal Fist Bump. That is to say, to enjoy a fist-bump with every person present in the pub.
Several of these terrorist-fist-jabs later, something goes wrong: Paul’s hand develops a mind of its own.
Finding it also has the power of flight, it proceeds to detach itself from Paul’s arm and engage in an evening of disembodied fist-jabbing…