You go back inside your house and look in the hallway mirror. A bright purple stripe is running across your skull! Up close, you can see it’s a tiny flat tube with ooze pulsating through it.
Your housemate, an older woman in an oversized “#MinionLife” t-shirt, asks what’s up with your tube.
“Assuming it doesn’t kill me,” you reply in a coy, playful manner. “It’s going to make me the biggest celebrity on the planet.”
“It could do both.”
“You know, I suppose it could.”