January 6th, 2003 - 3:32 a.m.

Statistics: 200, 128, 64%, and 86.4%.

Could it be bad that there were 200 cigs in a case, fully intact, before it met with ravenous hands just four days ago, and now there are only 128?

64% to go.

Good thing am decidedly 86.4% of everyone.

(There is a loud coughing, and a voice claiming "What does that have to do with anything?" Followed shortly by another, cruder, "Take it off!" The bad smoky lighting fades from the small black stage, and the naked performer on the high stool is only bathed in soft light by candles in fingerprinted glass containers at the various shoddily constructed tables.)

A few nights ago, a grape sized, shaped thing with a long Pinocchio nose walked up the wall at the head of the bed. Red sneakered and white soled. With the smoothness of Charlie Chaplain's forked bread rolls.

N.

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