I hear that and I think, "Who the hell is Tony? I don't know any Tony's." Wait, no, I lied. there was a Tony up in Brooklyn, he used to take my PS2s back when I was still working that beat. Anyway, I doubt a 6 foot 5 Italian man could be confused with me, so it probably wasn't him. But hey, Tony, if you are here, hit me up, we need to chat.
Nope, sorry, fresh out of Tony. I'm Harry today, I was Harry yesterday, and I'll probably be Harry tomorrow. Unless I get a weird name change but--nope, still Harry. I like Harry.
Him? Who the hell is Him? Well, Tony, obviously. But seriously, why is it a big deal. There's like, 6 billion people in the world, sooner or later two people have to look a like. I happen to look like some schmuck named Tony. God, I hope it's not a mobster. Please, don't let me look like a mobster.
Nope, no twins that I know of. Unless I automatically get one by coming here. I mean, I wouldn't know, do I?
You're in a place called the City. If you have money, you can get cigarettes at any convenience store, although I'd recommend quitting. Medical advice.
Oh, haha, another person who thinks they're my mom and tells me to quit smoking. Well, actually, they're not my mom, because I don't think she actually gave a damn about it. Hell, she smoked like a chimney on steroids trying to snuff out that guy from Mary Poppins. But anyway, damn it, off topic again.
The City? Seriously? They have a big gigantic mysterious place and they go with...the City.
Only because I tried to call Perry fourteen times on the cell phone and before I realized it's totally not working. It's not the fountain, at least I fucking hope it's not the fountain oh god that'd suck--
But yes. No reception. So, I figure, I'd better just wait this crazy shit out. I mean, go with the flow. If I can't even get a cell phone to work in this damn place, the chances of it letting a person out of it? Lower than the amount of people who saw that shitty J-Lo movie.
That, and I'm not dead yet. Or being held at gunpoint. So, you know, this is a step up for me.
So do cars, and yet people manage to drive around on them all day long. I think I'll manage. You know. Besides, there's worse ways to go.
I know more than a few of them, thank you, day job. If I see one more person with a big fuck off knife wound through the gut, it'd be too soon. Or too late. Fuck, how does that grammar work? Anyway, point is, I see a lot of dead people, like Haley Joel Osmant, only none of them are the ghost of John McClane.
Death by toaster? I'd prefer death by chocolate, thanks. Hey, might as well go out with the dessert.
Oh, great. I'm what, three minutes into this madness and I've got a chick talking about asphyxiation. This does not bode well for me. This can only end in tears. Probably my tears, but you never know with these things.
Glad to know you approve. Got any tips I can ignore...Oh. God. Great.
Okay, you know that feeling they call..argh, deja vu? When you think something that's happening now totally happened before? Yeah, this feeling is not that. It feels like I've been goddamn split in half and look, over there, it's my other half, only with a business suit and a goddamn goatee. Like those evil twins on Star Trek. Oh, god, is he my evil twin? I've never had an evil twin before. Oh, and he's probably got all ten fingers. Lucky bastard.
I am. So are you blessed with my billions of dollars, immense sex appeal, and a beyond genius level intellect as well as my good looks or are you just another pretty face?
Am I allowed to insult someone who looks like me? I mean, if I do, will that make the universe implode or spiral out of control or destroy New York or something? I probably can't, right? Waaay too many Freudian issues going on here today. I bet next week I kill my mom and fuck my dad--wait, other way around.
In order: Nope, you wish, and hah, my math teacher wishes, too. I'm much better in the magic-slash-detective business than in the sleeping on piles of money business.
Oh, and stealing shit. I used to be really, really good at that.
So, it appears I was wrong and lied to you guys up there. This place really is called the City. Did a ten year old come up with that after nap time, seriously?
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Nope, sorry, fresh out of Tony. I'm Harry today, I was Harry yesterday, and I'll probably be Harry tomorrow. Unless I get a weird name change but--nope, still Harry. I like Harry.
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Do you have a twin?
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Nope, no twins that I know of. Unless I automatically get one by coming here. I mean, I wouldn't know, do I?
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The City? Seriously? They have a big gigantic mysterious place and they go with...the City.
Well, it beats Baltimore, at least.
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Have to say, you're taking this rather well.
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Only because I tried to call Perry fourteen times on the cell phone and before I realized it's totally not working. It's not the fountain, at least I fucking hope it's not the fountain oh god that'd suck--
But yes. No reception. So, I figure, I'd better just wait this crazy shit out. I mean, go with the flow. If I can't even get a cell phone to work in this damn place, the chances of it letting a person out of it? Lower than the amount of people who saw that shitty J-Lo movie.
That, and I'm not dead yet. Or being held at gunpoint. So, you know, this is a step up for me.
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I know more than a few of them, thank you, day job. If I see one more person with a big fuck off knife wound through the gut, it'd be too soon. Or too late. Fuck, how does that grammar work? Anyway, point is, I see a lot of dead people, like Haley Joel Osmant, only none of them are the ghost of John McClane.
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Oh, great. I'm what, three minutes into this madness and I've got a chick talking about asphyxiation. This does not bode well for me. This can only end in tears. Probably my tears, but you never know with these things.
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Okay, you know that feeling they call..argh, deja vu? When you think something that's happening now totally happened before? Yeah, this feeling is not that. It feels like I've been goddamn split in half and look, over there, it's my other half, only with a business suit and a goddamn goatee. Like those evil twins on Star Trek. Oh, god, is he my evil twin? I've never had an evil twin before. Oh, and he's probably got all ten fingers. Lucky bastard.
You're that Tony they mentioned, aren't you?
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In order: Nope, you wish, and hah, my math teacher wishes, too. I'm much better in the magic-slash-detective business than in the sleeping on piles of money business.
Oh, and stealing shit. I used to be really, really good at that.
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Oh. Thanks. Any idea where this...The City is?
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