Harold Kumar — 3

His father looked at the glowing thumb. “Ah. That’s new.”

The flamingo dropped the folder on the table. Inside were photographs—Harold, but older. Harold, standing in a ruined city. Harold, holding a device that looked like a microwave welded to a toaster. Harold, screaming at the sky. harold kumar 3

“You eat dinner first,” she said finally. “Both of you. Then you can go save reality. And Harold—take a jacket. It looks cold in the future.” His father looked at the glowing thumb

Maybe that was enough.