“OK, look.” Zoe stood up from her chair in exasperation. “I know that this all makes perfect sense to you, Al…and I’m partly sure that even you —,” she said, pointing at me, “—have a decent grasp on all this gobbledigook. But as for me – I’ve only understood about a 3rd of all the words that’ve come out of Al’s mouth since we met him!”

I was about to regret the next 18, highly facetious words I uttered to her face:

“I’m sorry, Zoe! Do you want me to see if Al has a “Time Travel for Dummies” mode?!"

You know those tumbleweed moments where you imagine you’d be able to hear a pin drop?
This was one of them…

…but it didn’t last long before Zoe charged three or four steps towards me and punched me in the gut.

“OOOOF!”
In a most undignified manner, I stumbled back onto the sofa, gasping like a beached goldfish.

Zoe came over and bent down to look me in the eye.
“I trust I’ve made my point?”

I nodded.
She smirked.
She turned away.
(And don’t tell her this, but I then flipped her the bird…)