At the gym. Emo Goth teenagers have invoked the dark god Yog-sothoth and opened a portal from his realm to ours. I’m watching as a giant scorpion and a gross slobbery tentacle-thing emerge from a rune-ringed circle of eldritch light. (Curiously enough, I also see a pugnacious looking meter maid emerge from the portal as well). Open my eReader to Echo. Magic flash. Charles from the line of Norris appears in a sleeveless denim vest and eighties-tight blue jeans. “Quickly,” he says. “Load up the squat rack.” We put on as many plates as the bar can hold and the Man among men starts pushing that load as if he’s doing air squats. His eyes start blazing red. The pure crimson energy of Manliness blasts from his open mouth and hits the three monstrosities, sending them tumbling back into the Abyss. The portal closes and a raucous cheer goes up.