"I would never punt my son," she claimed.

"I would never punt my son," she claimed. I chuckled at her naieveté and said, "What if a maniac sets up a doomsday device, and he'll only shut it off if you punt your son? Hmmm?"

"While we're talking hypotheticals," she said, "what might happen if you still haven't paid your back rent by the end of the week?" Dang... I thought she'd written that off as a

a joke. Surely after all we had been through, she didn't expect the rent. "We can arrange something, if you don't have the rent," she said, while holding her Jumanji game.

I gripped the fire-axe behind my back as tightly as I had ever held on to sanity or reason. Sure, I had prostituted myself to the hag I rented from, but she did have Jumanji ...

which featured me as an extra in some of the scenes. I swung the fire axe right into the peephole. The door cleaved in two. My landlady was on her sofa watching netflix on her

I checked my watch. It was only a matter of minutes before I forgot everything. I had to find a way into the

lab. I had to make sure I was unable to forget. The only way is to write my entire memory onto a hard disk.

So I went shopping. At several stores all I got were smirks and snide comments from the employees when I admitted I was going soft. "Where can I find some hard disks?"

The employees started laughing when I asked. It was all such a bewilderment. What was so funny about hard disks? So I asked them once more. And they just laughed even harder.