[ WP ] And in this last moment of clarity ...

I looked up and saw only the cool, unwavering glare of Alan Alda. 
 `` Oh god. It all makes sense now. You sick fuck. `` I muttered, as Alan Alda kneeled beside me. 
 `` You know, I was in the Aviator!'' Alda responded 
 `` P-please. I can find someone, anyone else.'' 
 `` Now, Leonardo DiCaprio was a little intimidating at first but after getting to know him he's a real nice guy. Really gets to know the crew''. He coughed into a faded paisley handkerchief and wiped his mouth. He turned his back to me, then reached up from the bottom sweater to place the cloth in the breast pocket of his checkered button down. 
 
 Blood had dribbled down my cheek and slowly formed a neat pool on the cement. No one had mentioned the Aviator in years; last I remember Leonardo DiCaprio's memorial service barely paid tribute to the film. It all made sense now. 
 We had n't paid any mind when Alan Alda kept making cameos in prime time sitcoms; we all just figured he was in extremely good shape for a two hundred year old. Maybe some new Hollywood diet only he knew about. I had n't paid any mind, not until he approached me at the resturant. The saccharine conversation lulled me into a false friendship. He had tricked me. Now here I was, supine in a Shanghai alley. Flickering neon hid the sky. 
 `` You have great hair. Nice volume, really!'' Alda said through a sickeningly genuine smile. 
 `` Please'' I begged one last time. 
 He gripped my throat and I felt my life force begin to drain. My skin cracked and my vision narrowed; black dots peppered what would be the last face I ever saw. His skin seemed to tighten just a bit. 
 `` I need this, you know! I'm up for a part in the Little Miss Sunshine reboot. Y'know, people always used to think I was in the original''. 
 I could n't move my arms. My blood had stained his impeccably starched collar. 
 `` These stains will be tough. Wool sweaters, right?'' He grinned. 
 Alan Alda had won.
