Last night the world as I knew it had been upset by some cataclysm of Thundarr the Barbarian proportions, and the oceans actually folded over onto the landscape, with the carcasses of huge tankers jutting out of the sides of newly-formed cliffs. I’m not sure if I could fly, but managed to leap from one precarious perch on one such formation to another, seemingly miles away, and landed in the brush near a tree-lined sidewalk. Behind me was a precipice, but I stayed put, because marching along the street was an army of evil Korean-looking women. (Must’ve been 老婆’s derision last night of 김선아’s lack of glamour in her first appearance since 내 이름은 김삼순.) They spotted me so I pushed off into the abyss, hoping to escape by veering towards one of many branches that flew by at 9.8m/s², but they followed. During our screeching descent, they tried hooking onto my limbs with whip-like ribbons, but the regular technique for preventing them was to spin my own weighted cords from both hands like helicopter blades.
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