A snippet jams into my ear and recognition floods through me. Yes. It's End of A Dream. It has to be. No wait, it's not. Not exactly. It's more than that. The horns from Timeline begin stabbing my cheeks. The blaster beam lodges in my throat and begins stretching it like taffy. A collection of mixing bowls rattle against my skull. My eyes are forced open by echoplex trumpets.
The man looms above me, staring, a cruel smile fixed upon his lips. He finally speaks. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before asking for an expanded version of Mr. Baseball."