I was taking a walk to get some fresh air, when I passed a young group of girls playing double dutch in the middle of the sidewalk.

I stopped to watch. I’ll admit, part of it was bordom, another small part was the instinctual hope for Schadenfreude that comes from watching others do anything that could cause injury.

They began their ritualistic chant, and the rhythmic pounding of the rope hitting concrete grew louder. I felt my heartbeat speeding up along with it. A primordial urge to run flared in my stomach, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

In the midst of that primary plastic vortex, I beheld the center of all Time and Space, the nexus point where Overworld and Underworld connected. Then I passed out.

Later, when I tried to write a description of it, my brain went on lockdown. It grows worse everyday, and soon my ability to write anything will disappear entirely.

And this, Blamo Toys Inc., is why I am suing you. Your product has caused irreparable harm and I demand restitution.