Something lighter

After a post about how futile life is and another one about how the zompocalypse(tm) will kill us all, I consulted my magic 8-ball and asked "will I write a lighter post today?"

"No. You won't."

Since that's not a standard magic 8-ball response, I shook it again and got the answer "give Bob all your money."

This raised some questions. Who was Bob? Why was he so desperate to get his hands on $93.02 that he'd go through all the trouble of hacking my magic 8-ball? How did he hack my magic 8-ball? And, most importantly, why was I taking advice from a magic 8-ball?

To answer those questions in their respective order, "some guy," "because," "magic," and "because my usual advisor was out."

Of course, I've just gone and spoiled the ending for you. So now I don't need to tell you the story of how I arrived at these conclusions, which is a shame because it involves drunk police officers, a high-speed chase to the border, twelve quarter-pounders with cheese, a mysical ring of power, the theft of a blank CD, and enough explosions to satisfy the demands of the next dozen Michael Bay movies.

Sadly, by the time I'd actually figured out who Bob was, the $93.02 he was after had been spent, mostly on bribes. We had a duel to the death, and that's where the explosions came in. Then we stopped playing video games for a while because we were both flat broke.