— I knew you had sense.
— Sense is something you have when you have a choice. Sometimes.
— Sometimes it's when you know you don't.
— I'm sorry. Who are you?
— I'm The Boss.
— I thought he was The Boss.
— Why? Do we look alike? So, Mr. Fisher, you were gonna tell me something?
— I don't know. You brought me here.
— Yes, I did, but back when you thought I was him.
— I never thought you were him, I thought he was you.
Mr. Fisher. Are you familiar with The Shmoo, Mr. Fisher? Comic strip I liked as a boy. The Shmoo was a loveable creature, really. Laid eggs, gave milk... and died of sheer ecstasy when looked at with hunger. The Shmoo loved to be eaten. It could taste like any food you desire. Shmoo hide cut thin made fine leather. Even Shmoo whiskers made excellent toothpicks. In essence, The Shmoo supplied all of the world's wants.
