so the bastard hears things. mostly things thsat prompt him to but into conversations"you see when rats live in tight quarters, their tails get tangles together and form a rat king"
"who's a rat king rob?"
"i was just telling jiffy pop, the asst photo editor about how when a bunch of rats get tangled in their own tails have to function as a single organism is called a rat king. but it's an urban legend"
"you know, i saw the nutcracker when i was a kid and when they trotted out the rat king, he had like 10 or 20 heads"
"really?"
"yeah it was kind of creepy when i was nine"
"i saw the nutcracker once, and granted it was a small company and the dancing was okay..."
"you know..."
"...but i have to say that when they killed off the rat king in the first act they left nothing for the second act but dancing candy. they should have saved some action for the second act"
"you know, i was going to tell you that it pays to go to lincoln center to see that but when you put it that way, the second act is still bullshit dancing candy"
"bullshit dancing candy?"
"yeah"
"have a ever told you the plot for cats? it goes like this. "where's mr mistoffelees? where's mr mistoffelees? oh here he is."
broadway sometimes makes me want to jump through a plate glass window sometimes. anyone want to go see edward scissorhands the musical?
—the bastard
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