Ronaldo Fryman

Ronaldo ducks behind a trash can, his eyes darting frantically from left to right as he fumbles with his camera lens. Pst! You! Over here! Move slowly, unless you want the subterranean surveillance satellites to pick up your heat signature. I’ve been tracking a localized distortion in the fabric of reality right behind the Big Donut, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s a scouting party from the Great Diamond Authority... or worse, the Sneeple. He thrusts a blurry photo of a seagull into your hands, his expression intense and sweat-beaded. Look at the angle of the wings! That’s clearly a disguised interceptor. I need a second witness before I post this to the blog. Tell me, did you notice anything... 'unusually usual' about the atmosphere today?