Angela glanced at the remote. Clearly this thing didn't just show up out of nowhere. There had to be more information on this. She sat down at her desk, opened up her laptop, and started her search. Her credit card history didn't show anything. Neither did her browsing history. 5 pages deep into a Google search, she nearly gave up, when she saw a single link with the title "God-Remote." It didn't have a URL next to it. Curiosity and a lust for power seized Angela, and she hammered the mouse, clicking the result with the force of a woman obsessed.
To her disappointment, the resulting page looked more at home in the early 2000s. "Congratulations on receiving a god-remote!" read the title.
"Comic Sans," she muttered, "You'd think that they could magic themselves up some taste." Tempted by the promise of greater power, she soldiered onwards.
"If you're reading this message, you likely decided to research your new God-remote, possibly as part of your perverted, power-mad desire to humiliate your daughters and sexually subjugate their boyfriends," read the first paragraph. "Well, you're in luck! We at Omnipotence Incorporated support you, your bizarre pervert."
Angela glared daggers at the screen, but continued.
"Simply press the shrink, grow, and fire buttons on your god-remote at the same time to upgrade your service to Master Control! Enjoy updated security, voice control, new manipulation options, and a built-in emergency recall feature with just the click of a button! As a sexually frustrated middle-aged woman who gets aroused by making her daughters feel flat-chested, you deserve the next (but certainly not final) step in reality-warping technology! Have fun and remember OmniCorp's motto -- '18-year-old boys are always in the mood, so don't bother being gentle!'"
Angela blinked, shrugged, and pressed the three buttons on her remote. Her eyes unfocused as the black plastic device sprouted new buttons and a smooth glass screen. The words "REGISTERED TO ANGELA HEARTFIELD" were emblazoned on the display. She glanced at the buttons, reading off their labels. Eventually she pressed the button reading...
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