“….and I…like…dick jokes,” I mutter to myself as I finish typing those same words onto my online profile. Suddenly, a bowie knife slams into my laptop, causing it to erupt in glitchy light. I flinch back, hands protecting my face from metal-scented smoke. “WHAT THE HELL!” I exclaim. I peer at the owner of the knife, and my eyes are met by a sallow-skinned, pimply-faced Social Justice Warrior, adorned with all manner of in-your-face-think-like-me buttons on his vest. He flips back bright green hair, and says stonily, “There’s no such thing as gender. You’re propagating dangerous lies by even acknowledging such a concept.” I’m about to laugh in disbelief and ridicule when I see the owner of the coffee shop scuttle out the back, like some cowardly Old West bartender. As I rise to my feet I see that all the patrons have left, and now it’s just a ring of knife-wielding Social Justice Warriors, all grinning evilly at me. I open my eReader to Echo. Magic flash. Jessica Rabbit busts through the wall riding a robo-raptor and holding a katana. She gallops in a circle around the Social Justice Warriors, carving them up like Thanksgiving turkeys. Blood and intestines are everywhere, blazing through the air like jets of silly string. I’m covering my head with my hands, afraid of being turned into shish-kebab, when suddenly she lifts me by the back of the shirt and hoists me onto her robo-raptor. She plants beautiful, blood-covered lips onto mine, slings me over her shoulder, slaps my butt, and we ride off into the sunset.