“Stop her!” Gregson yelled.

The Governor unleased his machine-gun, smashing mirrors with lead—cursing the island clinic for centuries.

“That’s over 700 years bad luck!” Murphy cried. He tackled Evelyn, wrestling the red button out of her hands. Gregson dove behind a broken mirror, picking up a pointed shard. It was a maze of mirrors behind the auditorium where the Governor stood. The PI prepared to debug his brain.

“Here’s a little self-reflection for you,” Gregson said. “Everybody should look into the mirror, or the mirror will look into you.”


“You pushed the red button,” Murphy hissed at Doctor Evelynn.


In the living rooms of America, sitting senators sat on their fat asses eating nachos and guacamole made by their obedient housewives.

“McCleary darling? Would you like a margarita to go with your barbecued steak?”

“Would I!?”

His blonde beauty was sharpening the knives.

“Brain surgery pays dividends,” Senator McCleary laughed. “And to think she had me on a diet plan 6 months ago.”

“Do you like your steak medium or well-done?”

“Honey, why are you wearing that plastic poncho?”

“I don’t want any blood to get on my Dior.”

Back at the Clinic…

Gregson jammed the mirror into the Governor’s skull.

They say the brain doesn’t have any feelings, but the philosopher screamed anyway, and then the chip came out. It was like flossing a popcorn kernel out of the teeth.

Even with the mirror in his head, the Governor felt better.

Evelynn was being handcuffed by Murphy. Cindy and Samantha were staring at the scene with their mouths open. They didn’t have husbands to kill, so they were kind of like a computer glitch, frozen, until rebooted again.


Politicians across America were assassinated. It was to be a feminist holiday in memorandum of when women stood-up with one voice and said, “We will never make you cookies, or nachos, or guacamole again!”

“We better get out of here before reinforcements arrive. Bring the Governor—he’s pretty much lobotomized.”

“What about the twins?” Murphy asked.

“Bring ’em along. Not all of the women were programed with a husband to kill. When we get back to the mainland, we can go on a double date.


Stephon was fishing for sharks. He spotted them, running towards the dock. The hurricane made the harbor dangerous, but he threw them a line anyway, and became a fisher of robot men and women.

“I thought we were going to discover hidden knowledge on this island?” Gregson asked.

“We did,” Murphy said. “If you get married, be suspicious of your wife when she goes to the spa.”

The End

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