Imagine Pulitzer prizefighting.
Five out of four people have trouble with fractions.
I brought a mirror to Lovers' Lane. I told everybody I'm Narcissus.
I live on a one-way street that's also a dead end. I'm not sure how I got there.
Real life? Well, I just hope mine isn't investigated. They might find that I don't really exist - that I'm just a hologram.
Last night I played a blank tape at full blast. The mime next door went nuts.