He looked down, pulled the chew-mark-indented rubber snake from his mouth, and flung it across the room. It did not make a break for the kitchen, and that was just as well, he thought.

For a while he stared at a spot on the wall a foot to the right of the window. The sun was setting through the open blinds. It hurt his eyes. He wasn’t even looking at it and it hurt anyway, which didn’t seem fair. He considered standing up and closing the blinds, but remembered that a few hours ago he had attempted just that sort of thing, a sort of standing-up-and-walking-and-then-doing-something exercise, and it had made his head spin and his temples beat like the rails under the seven o’clock Amtrak from Irvine. He considered this potential pain in relation to the known pleasure of remaining seated and watching TV. The TV, he noticed, was on. All factors, it seemed, dictated that he should remain seated, and so he did. But the sun still hurt his eyes, so he got up, closed the blinds, passed out, and woke up a minute later sprawled on the living room floor.

He crawled back to his chair, then confidently stood and walked to the cooler. There were three beers left. He popped one open and walked back to his chair, stubbing his toe on the cocktail table.

The TV was flashing in a paroxysm of commercials, but after a moment the movie continued. It was a 1950s Western, shot in Cinemascope. A cowboy, facing right, was talking to an invisible companion. The image began to scan, grinding to the right away from Cowboy Number One. Cowboy Number Two appeared and began to say his peace. Cowboy Number One was still there, apparently, although all that remained on-screen was his nose. He thought he might be watching the Get Some Action Tuesday Night Movie. He considered looking for the TV Guide, but was dismayed to remember he’d watched the Get Some Action Tuesday Night Movie already. Between then and now…the sun had gone across the room once or twice, or…well…he’d lost count, really.

Suddenly he was hallucinating. He saw his head had exploded, and black smoke was billowing from his neck and the room was on fire and the ninjas were back, fighting, all around him, their swords going SMASH! right over his neck. They were too late to cut HIS head off! Ha ha!

He looked to his left and saw his own head on the floor looking up at him, miming his silent Ha ha! Then they all were dead and the smoke swirled around their inert bodies. Suddenly ropes fell from the ceiling.

Doctors and Nurses swung down and began to treat them. But they were too late – the sun rose, and set, and then started circling the room like a tetherball. It was a library or study in a well-to-do house, with four windows exposed to all four points of the compass. The sun swung around north-west-south-east-north-west-south-east and the shadows spun around the knight’s armor and the Tiffany lamp and the green baize table and the man with the handlebar moustache in Edwardian dress quietly smoking a Meerschaum pipe.

Then the light shone from directly overhead, and the shadows grew longer and longer; and suddenly the sun crashed through a giant stained-glass window in the middle of the ceiling and pierced everything with its hideous rays.

The Edwardian man frowned and took the pipe from his mouth. “Bother!” he said. “Pity the flowers that have to live through that rubbish!”

He awoke.

Very carefully, he stood up. After spending ten seconds on his feet with no ill effects, he walked over to the blinds and opened them. It was night. It didn’t hurt to look at the window anymore. On the TV, there was a large woman identified only as “Call Now!” with a blue princess model telephone to her ear. She looked very happy. He opened the cooler, and saw the last unopened beer.

On an empty stomach, he reflected, opening it and taking a sip, the alcohol hits you much more qui-

He slept.