My next door neighbors have guests over.  I stepped out to sit in my patio.  I wanted to look over Sexy Stare #9.  They are in their backyard speaking Spanish.  I hear laughter.  What?  No, no flamenco guitar—that's kinda racist, by the way.  You should check yourself.  Laughter again.  I'm smoking my nighttime stooge. That's what Alan calls cigarettes.  Why doesn't he just call it a puff stick?  Or a suckmenow?  Hey, buddy, you gotta a suckmenow?  I got money.  What are you, hard of hearing?  Come on, I need a suckmenow.  The laughter is building; two men and a woman—the two fellows are pitching a tent with the running joke.  They are making noises, maybe grunting noises.  I'm pretty sure they're talking about the pervert next door.  Is that him?  He just came out.  The light came on.  Now it's off.

Later he will wander the halls of the hospital, where both generations are currently admitted.  He will wander, looking, looking for something, something to light, his suckmenow.