"This dress is horseshit! It was supposed to be me dressed for success!" said Peter.
Then he spit.
"More like suck-cess!"
Then he spit some more.
Then he set his dress on fire.
"It was an ugly dress anyway."
Then he stood in the mirror and looked at his floppy wiener
"Now I'm dressed for success."
He looked a little longer.
"Now we're talkin' turkey."
He looked some more.
"I'm ready to storm the castle!" he said.
Peter had no clothes on. He felt he was ready to seal the deal. He walked into the boardroom with his wiener flopping and he blew it again. He ran back to the mirror.
"Maybe the clothes make the man and I have no clothes so I'm not the man for the job." he said.
Then he got sad and lowered his head in shame. Then he looked at his wiggling toes on the floor and blue carpet and got an idea.
"Nice blue carpet!" he said.
Then he went and got some blue paint. He painted his belly blue and he painted his butt blue. He barged right back into the meeting. The previous times he blew it. This time he blue them away.
The meeting loved him. Peter was to be appointed the Senior Executive of PR for the Psycho Hairplugs Space-Dog-Eyeball Vision Restoration Program for Lonely Sister-in-Laws Church House-Music Dance Club. It was a very specific club that didn't exist because Peter was schizophrenic and made it up.
The other voices in Peter's head were extremely disappointed when they found out that it was not real and they made it up together, as they had been extremely invested in Peter's success.