Damn, I'm dumb.
Somehow, I made my way to the City of Big Apples. I hopped on a few different trains, making sure I was northward bound, and found the city name to be a bit of a fallacy. I spent a few hours climbing up and down trees, but was unable to find any apples. I did, however, find a few empty soda cans in a couple trees I climbed, which leads me to believe that birds and squirrels do enjoy soft drinks, more specifically Sprite and Diet Pepsi.
The people here are really weird, though. Feeling like I could really eat a pie, I stopped in some pizzeria after taking the train. I thought the hostess inside was really hitting on me because as soon as I entered, she said, "Welcome. Take off your clothes. Make yourself at home." Now, I usually don't take off my clothes at home unless I was going to hop in the shower. And I'd probably take off my clothes if I was to ever get laid, but the moment I pulled off my dungarees, people began to freak out like they never seen a guy walking around with a t-shirt, tighty whiteys, and tube socks on before. I still couldn't figure out why they kicked me out of the place when the fuckin' hostess asked me to undress for her. That stupid bitch. Next time, I'm just going to undress myself without their invitation. In retaliation, I urinated all over the johnny pump in front of the shop, marking their territory as my own.
Walking down a few blocks, I ask a bum where a good place is to get food, only because the walker-bys rudely ignored my call for their attention. Completely disregarding my question, he mentions some hero store with 2-foot heroes for sale. It was my calling. A great superhero always needs a sidekick, and a midget superhero would be the perfect addition to my super team. Following the homeless man's directions, disappointment fell over me when the midget super-hero turned out to be sub shop. The bum had foiled my plans for superhero recruitment. I should have known that superhero sidekicks aren't likely to be sold in stores.
I think I need to get out of this city right away before Spider-man realizes I'm trying to take his job as crime fighter deluxe. I sure as hell don't want him to start spinning tangling webs to trap me in, because even though I'm just that fly, I don't plan to be someone else's dinner. I look to good for that.
How did some bitch offer me a job "under the table" and my junk did not even get touched?!
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