I began to present my cowboy boss with the time travel theory, but as soon as I got to my first premise (you cannot just JUMP through time; you have to travel through every second of it) he began to argue with me.
“Listen,” he said, “the theory that time is divided up into these supposed measurements, they are infinitely smaller and smaller, and seconds are just, and see people like me don’t believe in that.”
Me: “Okay, but the units that we’re splitting time into are kind of irrelevant to my argument. See, I’m saying–”
Him: “In the beginning, the world was filled with elves.”
Silence. He stares at the carpet.
He was drinking at lunch, so that accounts for the incoherency. Sort of. Except a few days ago when he was sober, I asked him what Christmas present I should get for my friend who is Asia-obsessed (this is you, Michele) and he said that a must-have for every Asian household is a screen in the bathroom to keep out the walking dead.