The part In which our hero finds himself pondering over the owner of a handlebar 

The part In which our hero finds himself pondering over the owner of a handlebar

(eric's turn)

the walls rose like a dream snuggled in the morning hours of sleep- dizzying and comforting at the same time. in his mind, he found the image of a short, ugly fellow (did he smell whisky?), and realized, quite reluctantly, that he was really beginning to miss Flo. he wondered what yoga position she was in now. quite suddenly however, the image of the man from picadilly reentered his mind. the man had one of those handlebar mustaches, the kind that you have to buy wax for. bemused for a moment, he thought-- it's a good thing it wasn't flo who had that mustache. or was it her who had it? well it didn't matter now. where was all this headed? to the Verything? ansel had no idea. and so, with a shrug and a heave, our boy hero dragged himself down the cobblestone, under the towering walls, wondering when the hell somebody would write about cute nurses again.