To get to where I live, you’ll have to drive to Illinois, take a backtrack to Arizona in case any drunk guys are following you, drive down to Mexico and speed past the patrols, get chased epically down to the Panama Canal, lose them by stowing away in a steamboat, get driven to Japan, raid all the video game stores, hijack a plane that gets shot down in Russia, get found and treated back to full health by some farmers who raise llamas, then get lost in the mountains and wander across Europe into France where you get force-fed snails in a snobbish restaurant, steal some guy’s money to get a ticket to travel through the Chunnel to England, where you get taken to Parliament who recognize you as the long-lost heir to the throne, get raised as the Prince, and one day remember you were going to visit me so fly to Maryland, get lost, find where I live, and realize I had just moved <.< The end.
