Guffawing swine. These nightmares with tooth-aches they try to cure with whisky. I tell you, pals, the pain ain't goin' away, 'cuz it's not even started festering in your bellies. Tin hearts with aching beliefs, done nothing for you! Nothing! Blink, time goes by and away, snagging on its own tail in the process.

I check my mail by calling the clerk. I tip. He goes away. I snarl. I snarl again, hoping somebody will hear me this time. No chance. Time is of no essence in this hole. People keep protruding but good luck doesn't. I check the inside of my fist again. A crumpled bit of paper carrying advice. I uncrumple it and read it over and over again.

advice 1 call your lawyer 2 think again

I keep telling myself I wrote this, even though I know I didn't.

The leather sofa I sit in is big and square, its edges on scores of caffeine while a carpet starts engulfing it, blasting it. Prey. Caffeine isn't "trippy", it's an enhancer just like staring at the sun, you bastards. I'm not giving up! I rush to let the nearest waiter know that their establishment will be denounced as vile come review time, if you don't start washing it using scotch-brite and the blood of your children and no, I wear no bouts of depression concerning the nuance of your walls, I'm talking about the debasement of humanity: snap out of it, man!

No use. I rush out, carrying with me the memory of nothing at all.