"Michael, blah blah blah, according to my calculations, blah blah blah, I'm a huge penis-sore." The only other voice was Bill Kurtis. His name sounded familiar, but it took me a second before I could place it. If you've ever watched anything on A&E you'll know who I'm talking about. You know that distinguished voice who narrates tales of true crime while probably enjoying a glass of port? Yeah, that guy. I activated the feature, and after a few seconds was delighted to hear Kurtis's unmistakable voice resonate throughout the car: "Hello, I'm Bill Kurtis. Before we set out on this journey, would you like to tell me your name, so as to personalize your driving experience?" "All right," I said, a little unsure of myself. "I'm Chris Bucholz." "Hello Chris. You may begin by entering a destination." "Uh. Chicago I guess. Just basic Chicago please."
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"2:00pm. Chris Bucholz heads south out of O'Hare airport's rental parking lot, towards Chicago." "Oh awesome!" I exclaimed, putting the car into gear and following Kurtis's instructions. "Keeping to the right as he approaches the interchange, Chris spots Chicago's iconic skyline in the distance. Clouds blot the horizon; clouds well suited for casting shadows... over murder." "Yeah!" I shrieked. "Yeah! This is exactly how awesome life should be all the time." Bill spoke again. "I take it from the elevated pitch of your response that you enjoy this style of pathfinding. Would you care to tell me a bit more about yourself, so as to better personalize your voyage?" I nodded vigorously. "Sold. Completely sold. OK. I'm a writer. For Cracked. I'm here researching an article." "As in Cracked Magazine? Is that still around?" "After a fashion, yes. Wow. You're really interactive, hey?" "This is an extremely advanced personal navigation system, yes," Bill responded. "Powerful heuristic language detection and response systems, 3G network connection, access to an enormous database online and off." He paused to let that digest. "Taking exit 27 in a half mile, Cracked writer Chris Bucholz drove down the chilly Chicago streets, towards events that would soon change his life forever." I laughed. "That's great! And it could apply to basically anything." "Indeed. That's a little narrator's trick for you." ____________________ "So this is the Winslow house," I said, looking up at it. It didn't look like I remembered, but that was almost certainly because I didn't actually remember what it looked like. Bill narrated my thoughts accurately. "2:45 pm. Chris looked up at the North Chicago home, once used for the exterior shots from the hit sitcom