Disclaimer: Zootopia stories, characters, settings, and properties belong to the Walt Disney Co. This story is written under Fair Use Copyright laws.
The Fire Triangle
Part Two:
Oxidizer
Chapter 5—Unintended Consequences
(Cont'd…Part 4)
One Grand Central Place, Zoo York City, Sunday Morning.
"I've been watching too many stupid film noir movies; that's my problem." Nick huffed as he gazed up at the edifice before him.
He'd been expecting a crumbling brownstone, complete with dingy windows, cracked front steps and a rusty, wrought iron railing. Instead he found himself in front of a tall, neat, and rectangular Art-Deco building in 'wedding-cake' configuration, each block of floors stepped back from the one below.
Entering through the front door, he found that the interior of One Grand Central was also like nothing out of a Dashiell Hamster novel. There were no tired and stuttering lights, no worn carpet, or fading wallpaper; no surly, half asleep door-mammal. The lobby, in fact, wasn't even located at ground level; it was one floor up, via escalator.
Arriving at the top, Nick found himself in a long hallway trimmed in cinnamon-colored marble and topped with an arched, honeycomb ceiling. The lighting was both soft and cheerful.
So was the concierge behind the reception desk, a graying fallow deer doe who seemed to think that being helpful to any and all visitors was her mission in life.
"You know, you didn't have to come in through the front door, Mr. Wilde. We have direct access to Grand Central Terminal here. See me again on your way out and I'll direct you."
"I'll be sure to do that," the fox replied. She had addressed him by the wrong title, but since he hadn't yet shown his badge, it was a more than forgivable sin. Nor did he present it now, instead laying the business card Claudia had given him on the counter-top. "Anyway, here's who I'm here to see," he said, making sure to put on his best, poor-humble-red-fox demeanor; it was always most effective with animals of this sort. "I realize they're probably not in today, but I found myself with some extra time this morning, and I just happened to be in the neighborhood, and so…" He concluded the sentence with a shrug.
The deer-doe picked up the card, studied it for a second, and then returned it. "I don't know if Mr. Pennanti is in this morning; he's kind of hard to keep track of. But there ought to be someone on duty up there; like the slogan says, they never close. Nick was about to nod his thanks when she held out a hoof. "But can I see some ID first, please?"
As things turned out the concierge was spot on with her conjecture; the door to Suite 4216 was wide open. Stepping inside, Nick's first thought was that this place looked more like an upscale law firm than a detective agency; plush carpets, comfy chairs, and walnut paneling. The effect was negated only by the flurry of framed photographs, decorating the walls; vintage pictures, detailing the history of the Minkerton Detective Agency. Here was the founder, Alan Minkerton, together with Abraham Lincoon, there was the legendary James McPurrland, the detective who brought down The Lizzie McGuires. And over on the other side…what the heck? That photo looked more like it belonged on the wall of a Tombstoat saloon than a Zoo York City Detective agency. "Who's the cougar with the cowboy hat and the six-shooter?"
To the fox's surprise, someone answered him; he had addressed the question to no one in particular. "That's Charlie Bintrongo; the Cowboy Detective; he helped take down Butch Catsidy and the Wild Bunch."
Turning around, Nick saw that the speaker was not the goat behind the reception desk but a much younger animal; a badger in shirtsleeves and suspenders. Nick sized him up at once as a new hire, more than likely an intern.
But, as long as he had everyone's attention, it was time to put on his most professional air. "Oh, good morning; I'm Detective Nicholas Wilde of the Zootopia Police Department." He pulled out his police badge, making certain to display it long enough to quell any and all doubts as to its authenticity. Returning the badge to his pocket, he replaced it with the business card Claudia had given him. "I was hoping to talk to Detective Martin Pennanti this morning." Laying it on the reception desk, he tapped it with a finger. "Is he in today, by any chance?"
The she-goat picked up the card and scrutinized it with the corners of her mouth pulling back and downwards. "Ahhh, that's hard to say Detective Wilde," she told him, passing it back, "Detective Pennanti's kind of a hard mammal to pin down; comes and goes as he pleases, if you know that I mean."
Nick knew; he'd already heard it downstairs…but before he could respond the badger spoke up.
"Well, if he is here, he'll be at his desk; I can go check, if you like."
"Yep, newbie," the red fox decided, "just so eager to please." He switched his expression to an ingratiating smile, and proffered the card to the young intern. "Oh, that'd be great, could you?" And then, disguising his words as an afterthought he added. "If you do happen to see him, can you tell him Claudia Nizhang sent me? And oh…" There's nothing like a little irony in your diet; now he really had remembered something else, "And tell him, 'Justice does not descend from its own pinnacle.' He'll know what it means."
"Will do," the badger replied, taking the card and disappearing like a shot through the door to the offices beyond—while Nick could only smile.
"Hrmph, I know beavers who aren't that eager."
His amusement was destined not to last; in less than three minutes the young badger was back—and the expression on his face said it all.
"I'm sorry Mr….er, Detective Wilde; Detective Pennanti isn't in today."
He sounded not unlike a mechanic, mournfully informing a customer, "I'm sorry, but that part is no longer available."
Oh well, it wasn't as if this turn of events was unexpected.
"Okay," Nick nodded, "I understand; ummm, when might he be expected to return?"
The badger shot his gaze up into the ceiling lights, as if they had unexpectedly begun to flicker. And then, he looked uncomfortably at his visitor again, "Not for at least two…uh, three more days; according to his assistant, he's out of town right now."
"Ohhh, darnit…that's too bad." Nick snapped his fingers in disappointment. What he wanted to do was subject the badger to the third degree; where, exactly, had Detective Pennanti gone on his assignment?
And what he really wanted to do was grab this kid by the collar and get right in his face, "Go ahead and lie to me, but DON'T insult my intelligence!"
He'd already had enough of that from the ZYPD.
"I'm truly sorry Detective," the badger informed him dolefully, holding out the card that Nick had given him like a peace offering.
The fox was barely able to stop himself from snatching out of the intern's paw. But when he finally took hold of it…heyyy, wait a second; he didn't remember the card feeling this thick. And when he rubbed his thumb and forefinger, he felt a sensation of paper sliding against paper; he'd been given back two cards for the price of one.
Forcing his ears not to prick upright, Nick thanked the goat and badger for their time and made a graceful, if somewhat hasty, exit.
When the elevator arrived, there were at least three other animals on board, a wallaby and a pair of marron sheep. It was only after they exited—three floors down—that the fox felt safe in retrieving the extra card. It was an exact copy of the one he'd received from Claudia, and for a moment he thought he'd grabbed the original by mistake. But when he turned it over, he saw written on the back,
Lou's Deli
4th Ave between 35 and 36th St.
1 hr.
Pennanti
He stuffed the card back in his wallet with his brows beetling at full tilt. He was sorely tempted to go straight to Lou's, grab a table, and wait. He might have done just that, except his instincts were fox-screaming, 'Bad idea!' Detective Pennanti would be just as put off if he showed up early for their meeting as he would be if his visitor walked in late. Checking with Zoogle maps on his cell phone, Nick saw that the place was about a 15 minute walk from One Grand Central. Okay-y-y, there was no rule saying he couldn't go check out the location, provided he didn't actually go inside. Hmmm, now there was an idea with merit. It'd be just his luck on this fine Sunday morning to wait a while and then get lost on the way—and then, by the time he finally found the place, Martin Pennanti would have long since departed and sorry pal, you had your chance.
Nick didn't get lost, and he found Lou's Diner and Deli right away. It was pretty hard to miss; what with a front all done up in fire-engine red, and a parade of umbrella tables—and patrons—lining the sidewalk out front. Stepping around the corner, he spotted an unoccupied bench and settled down to wait. It was muggy in Zoo York this morning and rapidly getting warmer. He expected the wait to last forever, but it seemed like no time at all had passed before the appointed hour was upon him.
Entering through the diner's front door, the first thing he heard was the scream of another fox, "ORDER UP!" The second thing he noted was that the line of animals waiting for a table stretched all the way out through the door—and halfway up the block, even further than he'd first surmised. No wonder Detective Pennanti had wanted to give it an hour before meeting him.
"Hi hon," a voice spoke from behind, and he turned to see an attractive grey vixen in a waitress' uniform, standing with a notepad in her paws and a pen at the ready. "Gonna be about an hour's wait for a table." She was shorter than Nick and he was obliged to adjust his gaze downwards a little in order to speak to her.
"Ahhh, I'm actually supposed to be meeting somebody. Martin Pennanti; is he here yet?"
By way of response, the vixen turned and called over her shoulder, "Morrie, that guy just walked in!"
"I'm comin', I'm comin'" a voice answered from behind the counter, and then a slightly stooped bison came shunting around the end, wiping his hooves on an apron as he approached. For some reason, he reminded the fox of his old attorney, Vern Rodenberg.
"You Wilde?" he asked, and before the fox could manage even half a nod, he turned and beckoned with a pair of crooked fingers, leading the way towards a door at the back of the eatery. As it closed behind him, Nick found himself in a short hallway, with several more doors to choose from. Stopping in front of one of them, the Bison rapped on the wood and said simply, "Your guy's here."
"Send him in," a muffled voice answered from the other side, and the buffalo swung open the door for Nick to enter.
Inside was a small private dining room, papered in red, like the front of the deli. There were several tables to choose from, but only the one occupied was the table reserved for small-mammal species.
Nick knew without asking that the occupant was the animal he'd come to see; he'd made a point of memorizing the fisher's photograph even before leaving Zootopia. This was Martin Pennanti all right, noooo question about it.
He was big for his species, nearly as large as a honey-badger; big and lean, with fur the color of dark-roast coffee and not an ounce of fat to spare, together with the alertness common to fishers and martens. Even though he was perhaps a few inches taller than Nick, his paws were easily twice as big as the fox's. Were it not for the graying around his muzzle, he could have easily passed for the same age as his visitor.
He was dressed for the occasion in a pair of dark slacks with a lizard-skin belt and a dove gray shirt, open at the collar with a medallion on thick, gold chain encircling his neck. His facial fur was combed, trimmed, and slicked back up top. He could almost have been one of Mr. Big's soldiers.
Almost…because there was something about this fisher that said he'd jump into a barrel of vipers before he'd become part of La Cosa Nostra.
"So you're Wilde," he said, getting up and offering a paw, "I'm Martin Pennanti, ex ZYPD; pleased to meet you." His grip was firm and dry, and as they shook, Nick became aware of the prickle of some very sharp claws. Though he seemed to be harboring not an ounce of malicious intent, this fisher was undeniably someone you didn't want to mess with.
"Nice of you to see me, Detective Pennanti," Nick answered, nodding as he took his paw back. He had already decided to keep it formal, at least in the beginning.
"No problem," the fisher replied, taking his seat again and tilting his head sideways. "So Claudia sent you, huh? How's her boy?"
"She has a son?" Nick's head was also canted to the right, "I didn't know that, I only met her daughter." Sensing that he was being tested, he quickly added, "Nice kid; plays a good game of softball."
"Yep," Pennanti nodded, beginning to look satisfied, "And how's Chief Sabratha treating you these days?"
"Wouldn't know," the red fox shrugged, "I work out of Precinct 1, in Savanna Central." Yep, the fisher was definitely testing him. Hisham Sabratha, an addax antelope was the ZPD's head honcho in Sahara Square. Nick wasn't offended by his host's line of questioning; had their positions been reversed, he would have probably done the same thing.
"So," Pennanti slapped at his knee, "Got one heckuva runaround at One Police Plaza, didja?"
NOW Nick felt his ears prick up. "You heard about that?"
"Didn't have to," the fisher shrugged, "I know the guys in charge down there. Did you happen to meet Commissioner Waghorn during your visit?"
"No," the fox admitted, "I only talked to Chief of Detectives Anta." And for only perhaps a half a minute, but he decided to keep that part to himself.
"Lucky you," Pennanti replied, in a voice that was either a hiss or a growl. "That bum makes Chief Anthill look like Captain Cooperation." He waved a paw at the chair opposite, "Sit down, sit down…take a load off."
"Thanks." Accepting the invitation, Nick came to the swift conclusion that it would serve him well to keep his words to a minimum. "In the interest of saving time Detective Pennanti, I think it might be best if you told me how much you already know about my reasons for being in Zoo York.
"Yeah, okay," the fisher said, waving a paw. His reaction was as laconic as if they were discussing last week's weather, but again the fox suspected it was all a front.
In less than a moment, he was proven exactly right
"First of all, let's get this out of the way." Pennanti leaned forward and clasped his paws on the table; his eyes were like greased ball bearings. "I know the reason you came to Zoo York has something to do with The Company—And I'll only go so far in discussing that subject, understand? And I'll tell you something else; the only reason I'm talking to you at all is because of Claudia, especially that quote she had you lay on me. If it wasn't for that, I'd have been 'out of town' until after you left Zoo York." He opened his paws and spread them, "Just so we understand each other."
"Okay," Nick nodded, but there was one thing, at least, that he didn't comprehend. "But if you don't mind my asking, what quote are you talking about?"
The fisher looked at him curiously for a second, but then seemed to realize something.
"Right, yeah…I guess she never told you. 'Justice does not descend from its own pinnacle.' It's one of my two favorite quotes by Dante Alighieri."
Now it was Nick's turn to stare across the table with a strange expression on his face. It lasted for only a bare second; the answer to his unspoken question was already on the way.
"My other favorite quote of his," the fisher explained, unclasping his paws and spreading them, "is this one, 'He who sees a need and waits to be asked for help is as unkind as if he had refused it.'" He looked away for a second, as if gazing upon a distant realm, murmuring to no one in particular, "Stinkin' little band-tailed strega; she always did know how to ring my guilt-bell." And then, as if to signify what was done, he clapped his pawlms on the table. "I also know you're a rookie detective. That badge you flashed back at the office is way too bright and shiny for otherwise. You're also street smart rather than book smart; I can spot that a mile away. But don't misunderstand me; as far as I'm concerned, that's points in your favor. You're also single, never been married; no ring on your finger and no change in fur color where you'd normally wear one. As for why else you're here, aside from the fact that you're trying to pick up on the trail of a diamond smuggler, I know zip about your assignment and I don't want to know…not until I hear it from you."
Nick chewed on that for a second, trying to decide where the heck to go from here. The answer turned out to be obvious, and he responded with yet another recitation of his prepared speech, wrapping it up by informing the fisher, "Just so you understand where I'm coming from." For a second, he wondered if that might have been a little too bold, but Pennanti only raised a thumb. "Glad to hear it, Detective. Did you, by any chance, mention that to anyone back at One PP?"
"Everywhere I went," Nick told him, hoping it wasn't the wrong thing to have done. It must not have been, because his host's smile became almost beaming.
"Such wisdom from one so new to the game; I think I'm beginning to like you, Wilde." But since it was only a beginning, the fisher became instantly serious and aimed a finger at the door. "You know you were followed here, right?"
Nick rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't notice anyone…but I'm not surprised; they're been on me ever since I got here." He described the previous evening's experience, when he hailed a cab to get rid of the car that had been tracking him.
"Nice move," Pennanti nodded, before inserting a pin in the fox's bubble, "But you also know paisan, Chief Anta would have had someone following you on foot too."
Or…maybe there was no bubble to burst; "Well, if he did, it was busywork," Nick raised a throwaway paw, adding, "All I did was grab a bite to eat and head straight back to my rental. Anyway, that was mostly to let the ZYPD know that I knew they had a tail on me." He had more to say, but was interrupted by a growling from his midsection; the mention of food had awakened the realization that he'd skipped breakfast earlier.
The noises from his stomach were not lost on his host.
"What's up, you haven't had breakfast yet? Ah, neither have I, hold on a second."
He got up and went to the door, "Be right back," and then exited, returning a moment later and taking his seat again. "Okay, I ordered us each a Nova omelet, with hash browns and juice on the side."
Nick felt his ears rising upwards. "Um…a what now?" A Nova omelet; what the heck was this, breakfast on The Enterprise?
Pennanti's dark eyes seemed to sparkle for a second "Nova lox, the best in the five Burrows; trust me, you'll love it."
Nick felt himself grinning sheepishly. "I-I-I'll take your word for it, Detective Pennanti." He was beginning to understand how Judy must have felt, her first few days in Zootopia.
The fisher flipped a paw back and forth. "Ahhh, I think we're past titles at this point; call me Marty."
It was then and only then that the fox knew he'd finally passed muster with his host. Whoa, he'd have hated to have this animal looking to nail him, back in his street-hustling days.
But those days were long gone, and so he smiled. "Okay Marty…and I'm Nick, or Nicky if you prefer."
"All right Nicky," Pennanti leaned forward with an elbow on the table. "Lemme say, first of all that you don't have to worry about anyone interrupting us or listening in on us while we're in here. You know how Lou's Deli and Diner got its name?"
It was a silly question to ask; of course Nick wouldn't know that. But by now he'd managed to figure out that there was a point to all of the fisher's questions—and so he just shook his head.
Pennanti responded by waving a paw at the door.
"It's from the fact that this establishment was started by a Zoo York City Police Lieutenant. That bison you met out front? That's his grandson, Morris…and his daughter Ruth used to be on my team, back in the day. If anyone comes in up front, and starts asking questions about us, the only thing they're gonna get is shrugs and dumb looks…and forget about anyone being allowed within ten feet of that door over there; it's not happening."
Nick pursed his lips and nodded; now he was beginning like the fisher; he was beginning to like him a LOT. "If Claudia were here right now, I'd probably try to hug her."
"All right" Pennanti sat back from the table and clapped his paws together, "I told you what I know about why you're here in Zoo York. Now, let me flesh it out a little. We—by which I mean the ZYPD—we knew all along that The Company was dealing in conflict diamonds; there isn't a gunrunner on the planet that doesn't trade in those things. Having said that, your Zootopia connection is a new one on me; up until that shipment went out, The Mister did all his diamond business with a couple of brokers down in Furrida. We didn't find out who they were until after the dust settled, and by then, there wasn't enough evidence left to charge 'em. But from what I heard, they had a good working relationship with that sea-mink." His mouth pulled inwards and he scratched at his neck with a finger claw. "Why he decided to go looking for another buyer, I admit I don't have a clue."
"I think I might have an idea about that," Nick answered, but then cocked an ear in the direction of the door, "Uhm, but I think our food's here; can it wait until after we eat?"
"Works for me," the fisher said, just as the waitress knocked.
Nick's omelet was heavenly, and the coffee wasn't half-bad either. Even so, what he had to say couldn't wait until he was finished eating. "I think the best thing for me to do would be to tell you the story from the beginning. It all started with a sting operation, down in Sahara Square…"
It took less than half a minute for Pennanti to raise a paw.
"Ah, lavender diamond, huh? Oh-kay-y-y, is that why you think the Company might have been looking for another buyer?"
"Mmm, the thought did cross my mind." Nick reached for his glass of orange juice while his host offered a short, tight nod.
"Yeahhh, I think you're onto something there. Even back then, lavender diamonds were hard to unload, since the only ones in existence…"
"…were either artificial or conflict diamonds," the fox finished the sentence for him. "Yes, I know; Claudia told me."
"Right," Penannti waved his fork and then speared up a bite of his omelet. "Please…go on."
Nick did just that. Several times in the course of his tale, he was obliged to pause, while the fisher made another observation. "The Red Pig, huh? Whoa, there's a piece of work for ya; those jackals must have really been desperate to get in bed with THAT guy."
"…kissed her? Mmm, I gotta admit Nicky, I never would have thought a' that. But I'm assuming it worked, or you wouldn't be sitting here, right?"
"…Your Chief Bogo had the right idea, springing you and your partner on those jackals without any warning. Sometimes a short, sharp, shock is all you need to…"
Nearly all of the fisher's interjections were of the casual variety—that is, until Nick came to his discovery that the diamond drop had occurred the day after the Finagles raid. When Pennanti heard that, he pounded the table so hard that several pieces of silverware fell onto the floor and the coffee-creamer nearly tipped over.
"I knew it; I TOLD that big scemo Wagfinger that it couldn't have been Junior!"
Nick just nodded solemnly and then went on. As he continued with his tale, the interruptions became fewer and further between. Those that did occur became increasingly of the appreciative bent…especially when he related the story of his Nocturnal District interview with the Rafaj Brother
"Mama mia, you turned those guys' own lawyer against them?" Pennanti was laughing so hard, he had to set down his coffee cup. "Ahhh, I wish I coulda been there to see it, Nicky. A thing of beauty; that's what that was."
When he finally wrapped things up, his host insisted upon waiting until the dishes were cleared before finally offering any opinions. But when he did, there was plenty that he had to say.
"Whoever your diamond runner was, it had to be someone The Mister had leverage over; given the choice between bribing a guy and blackmailing him, he'd go with blackmail every time." He threw up a paw and offered a reluctant nod, "And, much as I hate to admit it, that sea-jerk had it right. If you pay someone a bribe, you can rely on their loyalty only until the money runs out. But if you blackmail 'em, you own 'em for good."
"Mmmm," Although Nick had come to seriously respect this fisher over the course of their meal, he wasn't quite sure that he agreed with him here. "Not necessarily, Marty; you can always offer them immunity."
"True," Pennanti acknowledged, rolling a pair of fingers in the air, "But that'll only keep you from going to jail; it won't protect you from any civil penalties. Let's say your mark is a rich guy who's been cheating on his wife, or—this is an actual case I know of—this investment banker guy who was married to two different wives and had two separate families, one here and one in Vancougar. He never went to jail when he finally got found out—but he was fired from his job, had his broker's license taken away, and you don't want to know what his wives did when they got him into court. None of this had anything to do with The Company mind ya, but that's exactly the kind of leverage The Mister was always looking for."
"Mmm. I see." Nick answered slowly, feeling a little like kicking himself. He should have realized that for himself. Even so, "I have to admit though; there is one thing that's always kind of puzzled me. While The Mister was here in Zoo York, his diamond mule was going to be all the way over in Zootopia. How the heck do you maintain leverage on someone from that far away?"
"Oh there's only about a million ways that can happen, Nick." Pennanti told him, sitting back and clasping his paws, "Maybe the mark had family back in Zoo York, maybe he had a warrant out on him in Zootopia, or…this was one of The Mister's favorite schemes; he called it fire-and-forget blackmail. That's where the only thing keeping you out of jail was his protection; if that went away, so did you." He tilted his head and cocked an ear. "Claudia told you that thing he always said, right?"
"'I never trust anyone I can't destroy with a single phone-call,'" the fox recited the words deadpan, feeling his tail beginning to frizz. More than ever he was glad that James 'The Mister' McCrodon was no longer of this earth. But on the subject of Claudia Nizhang, "You know, she thought the diamond courier might have been one of Kieran McCrodon's hacker crew."
"Mmmm, I-I-I don't think I necessarily agree with that idea Nicky," Pennanti drew out the words like taffy. "The Mister might have gone for it, but not Kieran; that animal was fiercely stinkin' protective of his guys. He'd never have stood by for putting one of 'em at risk like that…and scared as he was of his uncle, he had one heck of an argument on his side. Try to leverage any one of his crew and the rest would bail in a Zoo York second; no way were they gonna hang around to see the same thing happen to them."
"Agggh," Nick winced as if a tooth were bothering him. His host was probably right—heck, he WAS right—but there went the fox's own pet theory about the diamond runner's identity, right out the window.
"And there's another thing, Nick," the fisher continued, turning very grim and lifting a finger to emphasize his point, "Whenever blackmail failed him, The Mister always had violence to fall back on. Nobody, I mean nobody was better at threatening to whack you without actually saying so than his guys—especially the Danaconda. And McCrodon never gave passes, not to anyone; once you were on that sea-mink's hit parade, the only way off it was six feet under, capisce?
"Yeah I get it." Nick's answer was mostly as a grumble; his chances of unmasking the diamond mule had just taken another step backwards. You can blackmail someone only if they're vulnerable…but you can threaten just about anyone with violence. "Allll right," he said, slowly, "but if it wasn't one of Kieran McCrodon's crew, do you have any idea who it could have been?"
"That's what we're gonna see if we can find out," Pennanti answered, and then to the fox's surprise, got up from his chair and tossed a couple of bills on the tabletop. "C'mon, let's go."
"Alll riiiight," Nick answered slowly, rising up from his seat even more slowly, "but, uh, where are we going."
"Roarkefeller center," his host replied, reaching for the door.
Nick felt his head tilting sideways again. "Ummm, okay…but what's there?"
The fisher turned and winked over his shoulder, "The Diamond District."
That was all Nick needed to hear, and he swiftly raised his paws. "Ahh, in that case, say no more; lead on, mon Capitaine."
Pennanti regarded him over a shoulder again, this time with a sardonic expression, "Nicky, if we're gonna get along over here, there's one thing you need to understand; I ain't Furench, I'm Italion…got that?"
There are some things a clever fox just can't resist; Nick snapped to attention and smartly saluted him. "Oui…I mean Si."
"Ahhh, Jeez," the fisher groaned, "Like we don't already have a million unemployed comedians in this town."
Author's Note:
Another chapter will be coming on Monday, featuring a special guest-appearance.