Gene stared at the computer screen in front of him. It had taken him ten minutes to figure out how to turn it on. Another ten to get connected to the internet. And searching Google was like running through a labyrinth in the dark.
"You know these computers don't even have Pong on them?" Sorry, Dean. Apparently you chose to sit in the perfect spot to deal with the madman from 1984.
"So, you're a cop, eh?" He reached for a cigarette, lifting it to his lips only to be politely told be the waitress that he couldn't smoke inside. Couldn't smoke inside? What was the world coming to?