_A crowded hole. Unicorns and monsters sit at tables, playing cards or drinking. It is a strange music indeed that fills this place._ ME: I just thought of something. HIM: What? ME: What’s the strangest thing we don’t often do? HIM: Kiss. ME: HIM: Well? ME: Oh. Ah. Uh, yeah. Um. ME: Well I guess if you get right down to it, I had something else in mind. HIM: What? ME: Can I—I mean, would you— HIM: Yes? ME: You would? HIM: Would what, you crapface! ME: Ha! Right. Um, what I wanted to know was, c-can I eat your shit? Would you shit in my mouth? HIM: Roll me a smoke and I’ll think about it. ME: You promise? I mean, you’ll really think about it? HIM: Of course. _ME rolls HIM a smoke, proffers it. HIM, not knowing_ _what else to do quite yet, smokes. Each individually listens to the clatter of six-, seven-, and other-sided dice as the unicorns get rowdy two tables away. Who can compare what HIM hears to what ME hears? The sounds are the same, right, tho they swim into different ears, different heads, are clouded into chaos by different perceptions of time and nature, by the turbulent signatures of discrete, individual points of consciousness? I think there’s a class on that you can go to. Check the bulletin board._