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"And you are?" I asked.

"Furillius Pitch, Interdimensional Salesfox," he said, bowing.

I knew I'd seen him before somewhere, he looked exactly like his picture... Exactly so, actually. He had a black outline, even, and looked like a cartoon. "No, you're not," I said, "he's somebody else's character, and fictional. You can't be him."

"I borrowed the image from your mind that seemed the most appropriate," whoever it was said, "But nevermind that, I have the solution to your problems."

"Stop that, before we get in trouble. Who are you, really?"

Now he was the spitting image of a 30s era traveling salesman. "I am a man with solutions, and you are a man with problems," he said, "And I think we can find a mutually pleasing solution. Behold, Instant Imagination, cure for what ails you!"

It looked like a plastic soda bottle, with a label made up in Photoshop and then stuck on the outside. Garishly red and yellow, eye-grabbingly annoying. "I think there's a few more pressing problems," I said.

"Well, I don't deal in women, or world peace," he said, "So be happy with what you can get."

(Part of the rabbit hole thingie from http://www.livejournal.com/users/crisper/26562.html )

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Forsyth

May 2018

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