Alas, poor Frank!

I knew him, Donnie; a fellow of infinite death, of most excellent prophecy; he hath warned me of the end of the world a thousand times; and now, how creepy in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here is that eye that I have shot out in the future. Where be your Sparkle Motion now? Your threats, your cryptic stares, your disturbing appearances in the bathroom mirror? Not one to mock your own reflections? Quite hallucinatory?

Now get you to Roberta Sparrow’s driveway, and know this: though you cheat jet engines in the tangent universe, to this favor you must come.