My name is Mark, and I have a technician friend named Ray. Me and him go way back, and whenever I have anything wrong with any of my electronics, I called Ray to fix it.
"Did Ray fix that TV?" my wife, Zara, asked. Our married life was...interesting. We had been high school and college sweethearts, and she workes as an accountant for a huge IT firm. She had always been happy to be the breadwinner in our relationship, and that was fine by me. That said, due to her job, we rarely had sex anymore.
"I think so," I said. I fiddled with the remote, and the TV turned on. But instead of the channels or even just static, it showed a black and white spiral.
"What the hell?" I asked. I tried flipping through the channels, but they all showed the same spiral pattern.
"What did Ray do?" I yelled.
I then saw Zara standing slack-jawed, her pupils replaced by the same spiral on the screen.
"Zara?" I asked. I went beside her and waved my hand in front of her face. "Helllooo?"
I snapped my fingers, and she seemed to wake from her stupor.
"Did Ray fuck up the TV?" she asked.
"It's..." I began, only to see Zara fall into trance once again as she glanced at the spiral.
"Okay, what the hell?" I asked.
I decided to call up Ray.
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