Rocketship to Mars

You lunge at Mike with the knife and miss. Michael, using one of his tentacles, whips around and steals the butter knife from your hand and you face him, defenseless.

"Tssk, Tsssk." he says, clicking one of his several tongues.

"You'll never get away with this," you bark boldly.

But at that instant, Michael's Martian ray strikes you in the face and you are instantly turned into an insurance salesman, doomed to a life of quoting Met Life brochures.


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