The cleanest, emptiest subway station in world is the Clay Street Station in Boston, Massachusetts. It's clean, clean, clean. No bums. No urine. No trash. It's nicer than my apartment, really. Not that my apartment is covered in urine or panhandlers or anything. Anyway. Moving on. The station is deserted, save for one man, a neatly dressed businessman who looks a lot like George Costanza. Costanza looks around the empty station nervously, and fiddles with his collar. A bald thug -- who bears a remarkable resemblance to former MTV DJ Matt Pinfield -- lurks in the background, eyeing Costanza. Costanza mutters into his collar that he has a possible "1013" (ha ha. Not) on the premises. So he's either crazy, or an undercover cop. Because a crazy guy who talks to his shirt would be both amusing and entertaining, my money's on the latter. Jaws-like music rears its ugly, clichéd head on the soundtrack. I make a sandwich. Pinfield lurks and glares. I make a pie. Pinfield lurks and glares. I put together a six-course meal for twelve and weave my own napkins and tablecloth. Finally, the empty subway train clatters into the station. Costanza scampers inside, looks around, and gives his collar the all-clear. The train (you do call them trains, yes? We don't know from subways in Los Angeles. I mean, we have one, but I don't use it, because it runs on, like, a four-block radius in the middle of downtown. I wish I could take it, because every time I get on, for example, BART, I feel very urbane and cosmopolitan. On the other hand -- but we don't really have time for my thesis on why Los Angeles will never have decent public transportation, the short version being that it was purposely constructed as car country ["In answer to your question of several months ago (heh), yes, you call them 'trains.' Unless you're Glark, in which case you call subway trains, streetcars, and LRTs 'buses,' even though they're totally not." -- Wing Chun]) shudders out of the station. Costanza settles in for the ride. As Costanza heaves a sigh of relief, Pinfield crashes through from the other car, lurking and glaring all over the place. Costanza doesn't say anything to his shirt, but quietly draws his gun. Pinfield threateningly smacks his gum. As he approaches Costanza, the subway slams to a halt, spilling both of them to the floor. The lights go out, and Costanza's gun clatters to the ground. He reaches for it as Pinfield lurches toward him. As we cut to a shot of exterior of the subway, Costanza starts to scream. They're killing independent George!