Oculus VR is the company that's going to bring virtual reality to the masses, which makes Palmer the "luckey-iest" boy in the land!
Quickly now - it's time to leave for your day with Palmer! Don't forget to pack some organic quinoa bites!
The brown aircraft touches down on the street outside the front doors of the building. You step out, and the pilot waves you adieu.
"Don't forget," he shouts over the noise of the brown engines, "Seattle rhymes with 'Beatle'".
Bearing this in mind, you head towards the building.
"Finally!" he sighs. "I've been waiting ages. You must be the winner of the National Lottery."
You nod, by way of confirmation.
"Then I bid you greetings, winner" chirrups the cherub-faced billionaireboy, abruptly. "I'm Palmer Luckey, the boy-king of VR; the Luckey-iest boy alive!"
Palmer extends his hand, and you reach out to shake it. But as you do, he whips it away and runs it over his face and neck, while making a whoop-whoop-whooping sound.
"Psyche!" he laughs. "Now c'mon - let me show you around my crib."
"Check this out," laughs Palmer, pointing at a sign with his fingers.
"This is the sign for my company. It's called Oculus VR Inc. It produces magic binoculars which make amazing things look as if they are real. Even dragons, and Facebook friendships. Retail price only $600."
Palmer raises a leg and breaks wind.
"Better out than in," he says, gravely, as blood tickles down his leg.
"Palmer need toilet," he groans, stamping his foot, and shaking his head.
"Palmer need toilet now! Will you come with me? I don't like it in there. I once had a nightmare where I froze to death on the lavatory and was eaten by a she-wolf. I'm somewhat scared it'll come true."
"Thank you," grunts Palmer from behind the door. "Thank you, so much."
You wait outside the cubicle, shuffling your feet, as Palmer beings to hum what appears to be the main theme from Back to the Future.
"This is Palmer Luckey reporting for Oculus news," he says. "Reports are coming in that Palmer Luckey is the luckey-iest boy alive, and he has better toys than all the other boys, and he's strong enough to lift a truck!
"Let me show you the main office," honks Palmer, before running off at incredible speed, shouting: "I hate girls! Girls are stupid and smelly!"
As you struggle to keep pace with his youthful exuberance, you reflect that he neither flushed, nor washed his hands, after using the toilet.
"Please get help," whispers one of the executives, as he gyrates closer to you. "We've been doing this non-stop for three weeks. He's a maniac."
Palmer Luckey stands and watches them, his face impassive and unreadable.
"Why are you doing this, you babies? You should be making more of the magic binoculars - not dancing for no reason."
"You... you told us to do this," stammers another of the executives. "You told us to start dancing, and not stop until you said it was ok to do so."
"Clear your desk, fatty," snaps Palmer, furiously. "And then go and die. Nobody will even miss you, least of all me."
With his head bowed, the executive leaves.
Palmer claps his hands together, then rapidly rubs his palms against one another. When he has finished, he offers them to your nose.
"Smell these," he pleads. "Smells like a hen's fanny, right? Fanny is the American word for arse."
You give his hands a light sniff. They do indeed smell what you imagine a hen's fanny to smell like. Palmer looks pleased.
"Palmer is pleased," he confirms. "Palmer is 'over the moon'."
"These guys are playing a virtual reality diving game," smirks Palmer. "Just watch what happens."
The two men dive off the chairs, and smash into the floor. One is rendered unconscious immediately, the other rolling around in agony, sporting a number of unsightly carpet-burns.
Palmer nods in approval.
"Now get up and do it again!" he croaks, strangely, while twitching and twisting his torso. The one conscious man returns reluctantly to his position on the chair, while his colleague expires on the floor.
"This is our birthing room," explains Palmer. "Every day, this guy gives birth to something new, through his face. Yesterday it was an anchor. The day before it was a bag of Turkish delight. We don't even know his name."
The two of you watch the figure strain and whimper, as the monitor emerges from his facial aperture.
"This shouldn't even be possible," says Palmer, poignantly. "He's in terrible pain."
Unsure what to say, you settle on a nod, and another, more shallow, nod.
"Cool!" responds Palmer. "I like you too. Let's be best friends.
"Now come on - I've saved the best room for last!"
You go to protest that these are merely balloons, but before you can open your mouth, Palmer has forced a balloon into your face, so hard that it bursts.
Palmer laughs hysterically.
"He's right through here. Please hurry. I've got playdate in an hour, with Tiny Tim from A Christmas Carol."
"Yip yip!" chirrups the strange man, by way of a greeting, nodding frantically at you.
"This is Simon the Pooh", explains Palmer. "He got so smart that he turned blue."
Palmer begins singing: "Simon the Pooh, Simon the Pooh, Got so smart that he turned blue! Went to the bathroom and did a big poo, Simon, Simon, Simon the Pooh!"
Simon the Pooh starts shuffling around the room on his haunches, with his arms above his head, like a chimpanzee being taken for a walk.
"I probably shouldn't tell you this," confesses Palmer, "But I am in love with Simon the Pooh's mother."
"Pray, what is happening here?" you ask yourself, aloud.
Heavily, you remove the VR headset from your eyes, braced for the scene that you know awaits you.
"Did you have a nice time, dear?" she fails to ask.
You recall, with great sadness, that your grandmother passed away weeks ago having spent too long in the prone position. She has been inexplicably replaced by this horrible old witch who never asks if you had a nice time. It's like she doesn't even get you, and she is always doing well bad spells and that.
"Make my dinner!" snaps the old witch. "Or I shall turn you into a barramundi fish!"
With the memory of your great VR adventure already fading, you do as you are told, and begin preparing a hot plate of peas for the evil old witch...
If only real life could be as fun and exciting as virtual reality.