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This one. Yeesh. Can I even tell this story? I'll do my best without incriminating everyone. So we're out on the sidewalk before the shift because it was May and it was a beautiful day. Tim, myself and Lloyd were all out there smoking and watching the people pass by. 13th street really is a great street to people watch, although by that rationale, the whole city of New York is. Well, probably not Kensington, but that's another story. Anyway, Lloyd's sitting there with his Camel Filters and his coffee in a pint glass, while Tim and I are standing around, when up strolls our favorite regular Richard. I don't know how the conversation even got started but we started talking about fantasies. Lloyd has a penchant for the insane, the shocking, and the surreal as anyone who has ever visited the restaurant when he was working the door last year knows. He has calmed down a lot since then, and I mention this solely as a disclaimer. So. we're talking about fantasies and Lloyds pipes in with his two cents, "No, Richard, the greatest thing in the world would be a girl with an ashtray duct taped to her hands." I'm sure there was more to it than that. Maybe Tim remembers it better, but that was the gist of it. Strange to think that this would be the greatest fantasy. But, I went straight inside to get to work on this fantasy, to hash it out and make it the greatest T&J ever. In fact, there must have been more to Lloyd's fantasy, because if I remember correctly, the girl in the chair is a direct representation of that story. The rest kind of filled itself in. Of course there's another girl smoking. Of course it's all getting caught on film. Of course there's an agent, a manager and a talent scout present at the shoot. It all made sense. Even the giant foot that the smoking girl is chained to somehow, some way, made sense. The director had to be some sick, demented, creature. Even worse than Cecil B. Demented. Much worse. So we made him into some sort of worm, yet complete with cigarette holder and beret. Side note: There's nothing worse than seeing a grown man in a beret. "Hey, look at me! I'm a caricature version of an artist represented by my hat!" The kid with the sticks was clearly born for that job, as his left hand is actually some mutation of the job he is currently holding; although, as we can see from the set, probably non-union and making less than $10.00 an hour. But, born for the job he was. I think in the end, this is what Lloyd was talking about that sunny summer day outside the Cafe Loup. I think if he saw this, he would say, "Junior! That's what I'm talking about!"