The Return of Friendly Tony, Part 8: Diminishing Returns
You may have noticed that there was no intro/outro as usual for my last installment. Or maybe not. Either way, there's no grand reason for it; I simply forgot. Anyway, thanks for sticking around, and here's part 8: Vengeance consumed my mind as I drove the old van back home. I was wearing a slightly too large white shirt with a picture of the Golden Gate bridge on it, and a pair of blue shorts that said “Yay Area” across the ass. I was fairly certain they were girl’s shorts, but they were the best option I had at the time save my soggy pajama bottoms, and there was no way I was climbing back into those things. Despite my new clothes, I was still cold and wet, and I shivered as I cranked up the heat. I dropped off the van at Prosciuttscio’s newsstand, and at my request he gave me some old magazines he was going to toss anyway. I walked over to an alleyway a few blocks away and tossed my soggy pajamas into a banged-up steel garbage can. I then tossed in the old magazines on