Get A Life!

MR. TANNY-O: Oh my, sir!  That looked to be a devastating crash.

YURI [getting to his feet]: What happened?

MR. TANNY-O: I saw the whole thing, friend.  Two street toughs, shrouded in ethnicity, burst from the shadows and assailed your footwear, leaving your shoelaces limp and exposed and easily tread upon by your very own heel.  And then they fell back to the shadows that had birthed them.  Who’s to say if we’ll ever truly understand their Oriental motivations.

YURI: But I’m wearing moccasins.

MR. TANNY-O: And a lovely example of Apache stitching they are, but let us not get bogged down in details and trivialities.  Rather, let’s rejoice at this wonderful cosmic crapshoot that has brought your moccasinned foot to my doorstep.

YURI [inspecting the booth]: You have a doorstep?  I don’t even see a door.

MR. TANNY-O: Perhaps the door is metaphoric.  A symbol of me opening up to you, bidding you step into my store.

YURI [climbing into booth with MR. TANNY-O]: Okay.

MR. TANNY-O [pushing YURI back]: I’m afraid the bidding, too, was metaphoric.  Or the stepping, at any rate.

YURI: So which things aren’t metaphoric?  What about you? [reaching out and touching MR. TANNY-O’s face]

MR. TANNY-O [tolerating YURI’s probing hands]: I am flesh and blood and all too real. The jagged scar along my jaw is from a drunken and ill-advised moment of lustful intimacy with a grizzly deep in the Yukon.  An illegal double-team blindside during a Bangkok streetfight sent my nose askew.  My left ear fell forever limp soon after I stowed away in the engine of a jet during a world-record-setting trans-Atlantic flight.  [Finally he jabs YURI in the stomach with his cane.  YURI gives an “oof!” and staggers back] And what of you, friend?  What manner of analogy are you?

YURI: What do you mean?

MR. TANNY-O: Well, I see you here in front of me.  My cane sinks into your doughy folds.  But I suspect, with a little more pressure, the cane would run right through you and, yea, through that gaping hole a foul mist would leak not unlike wildebeest flatulence, and soon you would deflate, leaving but a flabby husk of a man.

YURI: I’m really not that gassy.

MR. TANNY-O: Sir, you are ripe!

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