Jules rarely flexed her muscles, but it was

Jules rarely flexed her muscles, but it was about time she did. Mrs. Prisly from floor 7 had no idea what letting the kids have a party would do. How could she drink their tears

if their little faces didn't lose that carnival of smiles they called happiness? It was time to trot out a chemical highway that would teach them

how to tie their shoes, once and for all! Jokers, all of them! Heck, they didn't even know the phone numbers and email addresses of menbers of Parliment. Children of the corn pop

generation. She on the other hand had already memorized up to K in the phonebook and prided herself on yelling out names when people told her their number. She made good money

started playing competitive checkers against prepubescent ruffians. the visor was within her reach within a week of having started to play and her excitement was evident.

It came down to one last match. One final test against the checkers champ. Oscar was a gangly 14 year old, tall with barest hint of facial hair. He stuttered as he sat down

when suddenly he heard a voice inside his head, the voice of Bobby Fischer telling him to

not pay his taxes, move to Iceland, continue to not pay taxes, establish Harrwitz bishops early and often, and generally

avoid self-centered bastards and their self-driven deeds. Perhaps this all would've been possible without the pesky disruption by the Universe unleashing the end of the world. It-