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‘You used the word horrific. I assume it wasn’t a romp through the heather.’

‘In the dream the horror was that I wasn’t really singing “There’s No Business Like Show Business.” I was really screaming for help. I was screaming like “Help! I’m screaming for help and everybody’s acting as if I’m singing Ethel Merman covers! It’s me! It’s me, screaming for help!” ‘

‘A Rusk-level dream, Inc. A standard nobody-understands-me dream. The DMZ and Mermanization were incidental.’

‘There was a quality of loneliness to it, though. Unlike anything. To be screaming that I’m screaming for help instead of singing a show-tune and to have the wardens and doctors gathered around snapping their fingers and tapping their feet.’

‘Have I mentioned DMZ doesn’t show up on a G.C./M.S.? Struck tracked this down off an obscure Digestive-Flora footnote. It’s the fitviavi-mold base. If the stuff shows up at all it shows as a slight case of unbalanced yeast.’

‘I thought only girls got yeast.’

‘Inc, don’t be so fucking naïve. Data number two is Struck is halfway toward nailing down that this stuff’s original intent was to induce what they called quote transcendent experiences in get this chronic alcoholics in the like 1960s at Verdun Protestant Hospital in Montreal.’

‘How come everywhere I turn this fall now everybody’s suddenly mentioning Quebec in all kinds of radically different contexts? Orin’s calling with some protracted obsession about anti-O.N.A.N. Québecers.’

‘… Tavis up and announces Quebec are the lambs in this year’s fundraiser. Your Mum’s from Quebec.’

‘And then this term of all terms I take Poutrincourt’s insurgency class, which is basically a Québecathon.’.

‘Oh I definitely I’d suspect some kind of conspiracy or trap. It’s obvious everything’s pointing toward getting you in a cell belting out Mermanalia. Inc, I think your hinges are starting to squeak. I think this is what plateaux-hopping up to the top does to somebody. I think a meaningful transcendent DMZ-type non-uremic-fallout interlude before Tucson is just what the carpenter ordered, for the old hinges. Keep you from going back to just smoking that Bob Hope day in day out when the test’s up. Shit’ll kill your lungs. Shit’ll make you fat, soft, moist and pale, Inc. Seen it happen. You need something more than a 30-day cleanout. The tu-sais-qué could be just the reconfiguration you need to start branching out, leave the Bob Hope alone, find something you can take to college or the Show and not get paralyzed. Shit’ll paralyze you over time, Incblob. Saw it happen time and over, back in the neighborhood. Once-promising stand-up guys spending their lives in front of the TP, eating Nutter Butters and whacking off into an old sock. The shit-fairy moves in with luggage for an extended stay, Inc. Plus indecisive? You haven’t seen indecisive til you’ve seen a guy with little fat-titties slumped in a chair in his tenth year of nonstop Bob Hope. It’s not pretty. Incster my friend it’s not pretty at all. A transcendent experience with me and the Axhandle could be just what the hinges are squeaking for. Be around some other people for a change. Don’t make me sit there with just Axhandle babbling about Yale. Leave the Visine at home.’