You carefully check the tires, put on your helmet, make sure the handlebars are aligned, and remove the baseball card that made your bike sound like a motorcycle. You'll miss the THYACK-THYACK-THYACK noise, but oh well. You fit two cans of Mountain Dew into the water bottle slot and quickly walk the bike to the curb. You take one last glance at your house before peddling off. A great journey is about to start.
"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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