I admit I'm beginning to like the Feeling. I don't love the Feeling, like it says I do in the Info Guide, but in any case I can feel my attitude changing. Developing. I check my goatee for smears in the rear view mirror of the Vehicle and rehearse my lines: "Whhoooooo's ready to fun something?!" It sounds great out there in the Vehicle, but inside it doesn't quite come off. The Primary is an alarmingly thin ten year-old boy with sock pocks all up and down his arms. When I say "Whhooooo's ready to fun something?!" he just looks up at his mother and coughs. His mother is grinning and looking straight ahead, like the Info Guide tells her to. A long silence ensues. "Whhooooo's ready to fun something?!" I say once more, this time pushing the Real Pizza Disk box directly toward the child's quivering mouth. Take that, silent fellow! But the mouth does not open. Not an inch. Or a millimeter, I suppose. So I press the button that makes the vein burst out of my Biceps Experience. Normally kids love this, but not this one. He thinks he's special. Like Friday. Or Jane. Oh. Now I am really flummoxed. According to the Info Guide, the Primary must acknowledge the Blow Out Greeting before the Transaction can proceed to the Eating is Healthy and Good for Democracy phase. Otherwise, Legal gets involved and I have to conference with Winnipeg. Using body language, I try to infect the kid with the Feeling. Then I scream: "Whhhooooo's ready to fun something!!!" Nothing. The little shit. Still grinning, and apparently reading my mind, the mother slaps the kid on his shoulder with a fan belt. The kid winces as little points of blood begin to show through his faded hospital gown. "This kid," he finally mumbles, "wants to fun... something." Attaboy! In a fit of Adreno-Buzz, I suddenly can't decide which of the Four Retorts I should implement, but eventually I settle on "A Real Pizza Disk is Real Pizza Fun!" "A Real Pizza Disk is Real Pizza Fun!" I say. Then I switch on the Smellmaker and open the box. The kid looks down at it. The tears running down his cheeks fall into the Water Sauce and cause a chemical reaction of sorts. This leads to more tears. My heart clenches. I think about how you can't put a goatee on a heart. The the kid looks up at his mother, who is still grinning, and says: "I know what it means. It means I'm going to die-ie-ie-ie-ie!" When he finishes no one says anything for a while. His mother stares at my Jaw Booster. For some reason, I'm afraid of her. "A Real Pizza Disk is Real Pizza Fun!" I say.

When I get home Sam is sitting in my chair. As I approach, Sam notes the goatee residue on my chin and says: "Fuck you, Joe." I lodge a hiccup of protest. "Fuck you, Joe," he says again, looking me straight in the eye. So I go and sit in the chair by the door to the toilet, telling myself that I'll take care of Sam after I log some Rejuve Mins. Jane is there, in the next chair over, by the hot plate. "Fuck you, Joe," she says. She's upset with me because I didn't bring her a free Real Pizza Disk as I sometimes do. I perform a Thought Search, but the only result is: "Now that's a real nice Real Pizza Disk," which seems inappropriate. Meanwhile my Rejuve Mins seem to be going slower than usual, which I'm sort of happy about since I don't really want to deal with Sam. Sam my enemy on this battlefield we call the world. Flipping through the Relaxologue, I select "Justified Outrage" and get comfortable by placing my hands underneath my buttocks and jerking my head backward until it makes a cracking sound. Then I hear it again: "Fuck you, Joe," this time in the voice of an old woman. Goddammit! I look up: it's the ghost of the boy with the sock pox. Woh! He's dead? Already? But before I can say anything, he's off on this long harangue about how I represent everything that's wrong with our society, etc, etc. The other people in the chairs find this message heartening. For some reason, they've always hated me, and now they're only too happy to form a Revenge Coalition and tear the limbs from my body, which they do. Verily, there is joy in their body language.

So now I'm a ghost too, I guess, which isn't so bad really. I watch Jane while she showers and try to remember what it's like to be embodied and have a groin. I miss my Biceps Experience, and the Feeling I almost loved. But really, besides that, I'm thankful. So thanks. Thanks Proclub.