Henry Townshend (![]() ![]() @ 2008-04-21 09:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | antigone grace, candy quackenbush, henry townshend, isis jones |
I've discovered something horrifying.
Since getting here, I've been staying in a hotel and paying with whatever cash I have on me. (This, I guess, should've been my first clue. I have a lot more on hand than I used to.) I was honestly afraid to look at my ID.
So I am relaxing on the couch in the suite I've been staying in, wondering why the bellhop keeps coming to the door with free room service. I feared maybe I was a politician. (Nothing against you guys if there are any politicians reading this, it's just that politics is not my style at all.) I developed several theories. Maybe I was just a very frequent guest of this hotel, and they were rewarding my loyalty by providing me free room service, even when I haven't asked for the food or the drinks they bring. Maybe I was an assassin that had serviced a prominent member of the hotel staff, and thus get to make use of room service for free. (Not that I can see myself killing people for money, but it at least explained the free room service.) Maybe I was just really, really lucky.
So I was watching a movie while relaxing. It was a harmless movie, despite the star of it recently becoming a little bit of a nutjob. I actually liked this movie.
Mission: Impossible. (Some of you will be able to see where I am going with this.)
So I'm watching, and I'm enjoying it, right? And then Ethan Hunt reveals himself on screen, and who do I see? I do not see that wacky, couch-jumping spokesman for Scientology.
I see myself.