Round-Eye Person gets off the phone after talking with his white sister Delicate Person. His wife, Best Person who knows everything is in the room and she can tell that it was a very sad phone call.

Round-Eye: That was Delicate. She said the battery on the left, inside of her TV remote just died. I’m going to call Cleft-Chin and Mom and hopefully, we’ll all figure this out as a family. We’ll meet up at our cabin in the woods. For some reason, that always feels like the safest place for us to go and figure things out.

Best Person: This is so sad, Baby. That battery wasn’t even a Duracell or one of those other high end brands, so things were hard enough for it and now this.

Round-Eye: I should have known this was going to happen. Once you buy one of those B list battery brands you know the day is coming when you’re slapping the remote just to watch your favourite shows.

Best: I really hope Delicate wasn’t too attached to that battery or she might end up keeping it around the living room even after she replaces it. The poor thing – even I don’t know the right way to say goodbye to a battery. I mean I might be okay with dropping it in the bin but what if that offends recycled materials rights groups. Do you want us to tell the kids together?

Round-Eye: No, let’s leave the kids out of this. First of all I can’t stand what’s her name – the youngest one – cos she’s no longer the cuddly toddler she was. And neither of us knows the protocol for approaching the older one now that she has come out of the closet. 

Best: What about the adopted one? She’s kind of our responsibility as well, right?

Round-Eye: Is she coming out of the closet too? Cos if not, I don’t see why she shouldn’t be able to raise herself and not bother us. After all, she brought up her mother.

Best: I hope you’re not just jealous that she has sadder memories than you.

Round-Eye: She may have sadder memories because she had the advantage of growing up in the hood, but my memories are more unique. And I give all the glory to my white father in Heaven. I can sometimes feel him looking down on us with his long hair and full beard.

Best: You mean Jesus? Wasn’t he Jewish?

Round-Eye: No, I’m talking about Jacked Person. I thought I told you about him. He’s a white guy who found me at a fire station and raised me. Come on, Best, I’m pretty sure I’ve discussed my childhood with you before.

Best: I’m sorry, Round-Eye, I know how particular you care about your flashbacks but I’ve been zoning out during them lately. To be honest, I can’t remember the last one I paid close attention to. And it’s not just because of the gloomy 70s fashion or the bleakness of life without internet. It’s because sometimes when you’re talking about the past, the memories are so vivid that it feels like time travel. And then I become afraid that a younger me might see the older me and that might ruin the present when we go back to the future.

Round-Eye: Okay, here’s a recap, I told you about my late father who fought in the war, that’s the one before the Gulf War – and I don’t mean the second Gulf War. And he passed on his ability to remember stuff to all of us including you. I mean he still reminisces to this day.

Best: Perhaps I should write it down so I don’t forget next time? So you say he was a soldier before he started to play golf? And he found you in a space ship?

Round-Eye: No, I said he was in the Gulf war. I only ever mentioned him playing golf once that day when there was nothing else to talk about. And I said he found me at a fire station not a spaceship. Actually, I need to cross-check that detail and get back to you.

Best: I don’t know, Round-Eye, this idea of a handsome Anglo Saxon man with long hair and a beard who loves Blacks and Mexicans is kind of hard to believe. And you say he died to save you, his black son?

Round-Eye: No, just our family dog. He died to save our family dog from a fire. Actually he was mostly trying to save our photo albums because there was no cloud storage at the time. 

Best: He sounds so perfect. Didn’t he have any flaws?

Round-Eye: Only his drinking. And even when he started drinking it was because of that fun feeling of interacting with your family when you’re stoned and they can’t tell. I’m glad he’s not alive today because it would have broken his heart to see how badly his best friend has aged. But other than that he was my hero, my own Peter Petrelli.

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