The trolleys stop every seventeen seconds at the Temple of Sibyl, then dart off again at dangerous speeds toward the half-completed Woodward Building. Someone ought to slow those trolleys down, you think to yourself.

Though the temple is in the middle of the woods you can see a couple of dilapidated structures nearby.

As you gaze poetically at the beautiful temple crafted in the perfect harmonies of the classical mind, a tear comes to your eye. "What you crying about baby?" calls a voice from behind you. When you turn around you see that bully from the third grade that made your life a horrible nightmare.

"Hey look, we’re grown up now, I understand and forgive you for all that stuff on the playground," you explain, "we were just kids."

"Listen here sissy," cries the bully "I want your lunch money." He shakes his fist in your face.

"Um, do you take plastic?" You ask.

"If you don’t have cash," he exclaims, grabbing the card and typing the number and expiration date into his palm pilot. "Don’t worry, I use VeriSign."

You make a quick exit.