Explore "Superjoemulloy" by Scott F. Grenville on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
If Joe Mulloy was perfect -- and he was -- then beyond his perfection here only could be.
Joe Mulloy lounged in the plushest chair in his luxurious office. All around him, on the walls, on the ceiling, even in strategic spots all over the floor, there were mirrors. Joe sneered at the place where the mirrors were most profuse; twenty or thirty perfectly identical Joes sneered back at him. He admired his sneer from every angle, shaping and changing the contemptuous look on his face with his hands, stroking it, much as other young men in a far earlier age had stroked and twisted their fine mustachios.