The painting was familiar. Too familiar. As I stared into its eyes, I realized I saw him before. The picture of Dorian Grey. Back again. In our reality, this time.

I pulled out my knife and stabbed it between the eyes.

And turned around, to see an angry old grandmother glaring at me.

“Why are you stabbing my brother Polly, huh?”

Polly chuckled.

I whipped around and pulled my laser gun from my belt… and realized it was just a lazer pointer.


I hate being caught off guard like this.

I dived over the bannister, and rolled, crashing through the thin panels and into the set of the adjacent movie.

“CUTT!!!!!” the director screamed.

Another day like this, and I’d be one unemployed actor….


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