"Oh great, now I'm hearing voices."
"Well . . yes . . you are. This is Charles Xavier and I'm communicating to you telepathically. Excuse my sarcastic voice."
"Is this a real person I'm talking to or am I just hallucinating?"
"What on Earth are you talking about? Of course I'm real. We're on a mission together!"
"But I thought telepathy was just a scam. A cheap parlor trick."
"Jon, what game are you playing at?"
"Jon? Is that my name?"
"Wha- hang on a second. Let me scan your brain . . . hmmm . . . oh . . . this isn't good at all. Apparently you are suffering from amnesia. Let me just probe your thoughts . . ah. Zartan shot you. And he told you he had planted a booby-trap in my wheelchair that would zap me with 10,000 volts of electricity. That explains the angry message I just got on my cell phone from Disabled Services of Westchester. I had donated the booby-trapped chair to them a couple of days ago. You see I never use the same chair for more than a week. Wouldn't be fitting for a man in my position."
"This is fascinating but could we get back to me?"
"Your name is Jon and you are an Intergalactic Gladiator."