Snippet #2767890

St. John Bovinesque Jr. was sitting on a crate, waiting for the magical mirror who'd questioned his identity to answer his question. It felt as if he'd been standing there for almost four months.
"This is stupid. Why won't it answer?" John thought aloud.
Maybe because it already got the information it needs, a smooth voice said from within his head.
"What the- Who are you?!"
Hey, calm down, buddy. It's just me, your subconscious. I'm your brain.
"Oh, okay. What are you talking about, then?"
Didn't your parents ever tell you about how you aren't supposed to tell anyone your personal information on the internet? the voice cooed.
John thought for a moment. He couldn't exactly remember much of what his parent's told him. … come to think of it, he could remember much of his parents, period. On second thought, though, he was still very confused by recent events, and his mind was kind of fuzzy. His memories would come back soon, probably. But in the meantime... "I... I think so. Yeah I'm pretty sure they did," John said carefully.
Well, isn't magical communication kind of like the internet?
"I suppose..."
Then you're already done for! You just shared your personal information with someone online!
"Oh no! You're right! Crap, this is bad!"
You bet it's bad! Soon there's probably going to be a bunch of pedos swarming around you!
"What do I do, Brain?!"
Go upstairs to your friends and try to build some barricades. If they come in you can throw them out because you are a bouncer.
"Hey, you're right! Thanks, Brain! I owe you one!"
Anytime, man. Hey, I do live in you, after all.
John jumped to his feet, smashed the mirror with his fist just for safe measure, and bounded up the steps, passing the body of a young teenage girl who'd apparently tripped and fallen down the stairs, and into the common area of Gambit's Bar.