Rising up, back on the streets?

You go to your room where, after making your enhanced glasses more safe for work, you try to find a pair of jeans. Try and fail, because there's no way you're going to enjoy a tight fit with that beast you got between your legs right now. You start pondering about breaking into a clothing store, but remember that you can change shit by just saying what you want to happen out loud a few times.

"These clothes will always fit me," you whisper a few times while holding on to a pile of your clothing, before trying to pull the jeans back on. And hey presto, perfect fit! "Nice," you elatedly mutter as you try a few squats and poses on one leg. You suspect it feels like they are tailored made for you, but you can't be sure because you've never tried anything tailor made for you.

After fixing the clothing problem, you write by hand three more copies of your anchor notes. Then you fold and slip them into zip-lock bags that you've enhanced with a rhyme of 'These bags keep the contents safe from changes.'

Now that you feel a bit more 'backed up', you decide to test a dumb trick. You begin muttering "I know Kung Fu," a few times. You turn around to look at a mirror as you groan and slap your forehead at your now apparent ignorance. Kung Fu is a bullshit term that doesn't really apply to martial arts. It's about mastering any craft.

Still, the intent was clear, so now you know some Shaolin Wushu, Wing Wushu and Tai Chi. You go into a rooster stance and find jeans aren't really perfect fighting trousers, but they'll do in a pinch. Also, you know you're not a master, but it now feels like you got biweekly courses through your teenage years in these martial arts in your bones.

Which you feel is, okay for ten seconds of chanting. Though, maybe you would have expected more to come of it? Maybe Alex was having more luck with her experiments...