Harold looked around and saw the lawnmower man's mechanized familiar advancing through the door.

If the lawnmower man had missed a single cut blade, he couldn't see it.

But the lawnmower man took no notice, and his screaming scarlet familiar never slowed.

Harold shook his head carefully and the lawnmower man laughed.

Behind it came the lawnmower man himself, still quite naked.

He squinted obliquely at the lawnmower man and winced.

Great-great-great. The lawnmower man grinned at him with a thousand traveling-salesman jokes in his eyes.

The lawnmower man cocked his head at the radio.

But the lawnmower man was the true obscenity.

The lawnmower man had removed his clothes-everystitch.

The lawnmower man paused at the bottom of the steps and gazed tolerantly up at Harold Parkette.

The lawnmower man slapped one summer-apple-colored thigh.

I'm like the lawnmower man.

Cyberpunks quickly forget that technocultural flops like Lawnmower Man and Virtuosity ever existed.

Lawnmower Man (1992) Yes, we realize that things go horribly awry about two minutes into this.

"Yep, me." The lawnmower man bellowed fresh laughter into Harold's sleep-puffy face.