I ran into Lousnik Pooper on the corner of Bleeker and La Guardia the year after I decided there was little left in life to learn. At forty-five, I'd seen the front side and back side of nearly everything and everyone worth seeing. I'd already sank two naturally buoyant relationships into the bottomless pit of self-serving rage and despair, and was making fine progress on sinking a beautiful new family with he same wonton vigor.
It was the same year Lou learned that the strange tics and sudden attacks of laughter that had recently beset him were due to a tumor the size of hummingbird's egg growing against his brain.
"Hell, that's all? I thought for certain I was cracked!" He poked the imaging monitor in the doctors office, "You can scoop that out, right?" he asked. But it wasn't as sims as that.
end of part 2
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