The skull t-shirt makes you feel alive, and you punch your bedroom wall for some weird nerd reason. Ouch you think as you bandage your bleeding knuckles.
You head to the garage and grab your mountain bike. It'll be a long journey, maybe 100 miles or so, but the doctor said you could use some more exercise anyway. You open the door and see your mother's Geo Tracker in the driveway. You can hear her favorite Eagles cassette tape blaring. It looks like she left the thing running all night. You glance back at your bike. Well, what do you think?
"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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