I’m going for an early morning jog. Suddenly, an emo-poet with a faceful of metal darts up beside me. GAH! Before he can speak I cut down a side street. Two more appear, and I turn again, running north. Four of ’em run out from nowhere, and now I dash into the forest, leaping over branches and bushes. I look up; they’re traversing the trees like howler monkeys, all the while vomiting out their gross, eyes-half-closed-there-is-no-one-who-has-eaten-more-shit-than-me thought-goo. Painful waves of crap-think assaults my brain. My vision blurs, and my nose begins pouring with blood. I open my eReader to Echo. Magic flash. An army of chimps tears through the trees, bringing poets low and gnashing them to pieces. But wait—the poets fight back. The chimps squeal and clap their ears as they’re forced to endure an unending chant of pasty-skinned overly mascaraed madness! Suddenly, their commander, Cyborg Chimp, bursts from the shrubs and begins punching poets in the face. He turns the tide of battle and the chimps howl in victory. I stumble away, gasping, grateful as hell for the insane savagery that is Cyborg Chimp.