I know I spend a good deal of time tellin y'all about what I don't know. And it ain't just false modesty or nothin like that. What can I say? I'm just plum ignint. At least when I report the sciency stuff that's goin on, I get to use the words of the Squimonk, who seem a lot less ignint than me. Either that, or their masters of BS. I vote it's a little of both.
I'm just tellin y'all this so that it don't come as a shock to you when I tell you, in all honesty, if I were to put together a list of all the things I didn't know nothin about, I'm pretty sure magic would be right near the top. It wouldn't be at the top; women always have and always will have that space atop every man's list. I ain't even sure what would be in the top ten, but I'm pretty certain magic wouldn't be in there. I think it'd be somewhere in the teens, in that gray area of things where I know they seem to exist and some people think they're real, but they could be completely made up and fake; like consciousness or pro wrasslin.
I seen magicians on the teevee and stuff like that. I one time saw a guy make the entire Statue of Liberty disappear. That's back when magicians was concerned with doin big, showy illusions. It ain't like the magic special of today. Really, if bein cold for two weeks was magic, everyone in Iowa shoulda gotten their memberships to the magician's club a few decades ago.
But that ain't really here or there. Point is, I ain't know nothin about no magic. So, when I see a dragon made of angry ghosts burst out of the sky of an alien planet, I don't form me a plan right away. All I can say, and this is universal for all Pats, mind, is, "This ain't gonna be good." I know it's universal for all Pats because I heard us all say it at once.
And you know, as much as it feels good to be right about somethin, no matter how small, every once in awhile, it feels a lot less good when what you're right about turns out to be a ghost dragon swoopin out of the sky, scoopin you up in its maw, which is full of the screams of the torture souls which comprise this unearthly creature, and poop you out into a free fall where you ain't got nothin but your super hardened exosuit and your ability to teleport to save you. The most important question, when you find yourself in a situation like that, isn't "Oh dear lord, what's happening?" Nor is it, "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! What do I do?" Nah, the most important question, when you get over your panic, is where to teleport to.
It wasn't the right time for a vacation, and the unicorns was still a little sore at the damage I'd done to their hotel, so Maui was out. I wasn't quite ready to go home yet, and I didn't want to risk materializing in the middle of the shop and risking destroying all my precious, precious donuts, not to mention the possibility of squishing Jared when I landed.
As I fell, I tried going over my options. Here I was, falling towards a foreign world, being attacked by angry ghosts. Hmmm, angry alien ghosts. Who knows how to get rid of angry alien ghosts?
And that's how I found myself in Tom Cruise' house.
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