Chonga, sweetheart, baby -- if I stop thinking of YOU you'll vanish with even a whimper. Your existence will be as if you never were, less than a whiff of cigar smoke in a tornado. You exist only because I will it to be so -- and Amos, too. In fact, EVERYTHING exists because I wish it so, even myself. I brought myself and everything else into existence because I willed it.

Perhaps I'll stop thinking about it long enough that your trigger finger will disappear. Will that convince you that I'm telling it to you straight?