Harpreet Singh was a NCY cabbie. He loved

Harpreet Singh was a NCY cabbie. He loved his job. His prodigious memory and friendly chattiness made him the best cabbie in the city. He never forgot a face or an address until

10 seconds the customer entered the cab. "Who are you? What are you doing back there?" He would often ask. Once, Mr. Singh got very annoyed with a man claiming he needed to get to

Vector 5. Singh said, "Look. I got a business ok. Don't monkey around!" Then the cab passenger's face unzipped down the middle revealing

the "Fly of Despair," a highbrowly-named hellish dimension. Singh had no interest in being sucked in, so he didn't make the passenger pay his cab fare.

Singh mopped his brow, inter-dimensional taxi service had its perks, he often finished day before he even got up in the morning. However, he was assigned to the lower dimensions.

All this was punishment for the whole Khan dealy, Singh kept reminding himself. Still, behind each wormhole was a new fare on his taxi service, but that meant a new dilemma.

Namely, as Singh had never driven his taxi south of the river past 9pm IN HIS LIFE, would negotiating wormholes constitute a breach of this long-held mantra. We all know that crumb

fried chicken enhances reasoning. Singh was eating it with his hands as he drove his taxi, greasing the steering wheel. AHA! He could use the wormholes after 9pm -- IN HIS DEATH!

Singh's eyes burned like fire & he sped his taxi down 5th Avenue, unhinged & smelling like Colonel Sanders. A well-dressed woman wearing a fur coat held out her leather-gloved hand