“I’m going to take control of your body and your brain,” he says to me, “and then you’re going to give me a Jolly Rancher.”
The hell you say, I think to myself, but I say “Go for it.”
“You are now breathing manually,” he says.
He got his Jolly Rancher, the little bastard.
(Very long day. Including positively Hobbit-like levels of both First and Second Breakfast. This is all I have, but hopefully it got a smile out of you.)