I’m really psyched that “The Synchronist” found a home at the San Francisco based comedy magazine Hobo Pancakes.
Here’s an excerpt:
When a man hears his own voice from the mouth of legend, naturally he grows proud. His chest swells. He walks with long, slow steps across the plaza, gently slapping the day’s newspaper at his side. When he finally reaches his favorite café (much like this one), he sits and waits for the server to take his order. He speaks loudly so the whole café can hear him. “The Panna Cotta,” he says. “No, rather, the Torta di Riso.” He watches how the patrons look up from their papers, as if a strange wind has passed over them. They stare down the long halls of memory, unable to pinpoint the familiarity. But then, inevitably, someone will begin to say “are you?,” and then stop themselves, for the thought is ridiculous. It can’t be. But then they must inquire. “You know, you sound remarkably like that actor…the American…Kip…Kip?”
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