The countryside looked beautiful as you sped down the highway and it continued looking beautiful at a complete standstill as you pull the vehicle off the side of the road. Probably should have checked the fuel gage before starting a road trip. Unsure of what to do you set a few flares down in the road because it is what you see other cars do. You wait for a few hours before shooting a flare into the air, more out of boredom than desperation. Why does your mother have a flare gun in her Geo Tracker? Too late to ask now. The flames diminish as they fall to the ground. You slump over in your seat, bored out of your mind before noticing a man covered in tattoos and wearing an orange prison suit walking out of the woods.
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
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