Chapter 207: Hour One

Hour in playing hospice with a famous social influencer under my roof, and I'd think I'm well-suited enough to give my thoughts on the entire ordeal here. I mean I did the math, wrote the equations, double checked the results, mulled it over while stroking my metaphoric beard a bit, and so yeah, my findings?

Tyler was a toddler inside the body of a full-grown man. I'm actually half convinced his entire body was just a jumpsuit, and if I find the damn zipper I'll prove that there's a little baby in there with a steering wheel and some gears.

Then again, I think a baby would actually be much more tolerable. So… maybe I got a formula wrong somewhere along the line. Maybe I need to stroke my beard more.

It's just… you think a man with a damn camera wouldn't be able to put up much of a damn racket, but no, he talks to the damn thing every second of every minute like he's goddamn schizophrenic - why do I keep saying 'damn'?!