ONCE IN A WHILE, thin, or average-build, or even pleasingly plump people manage to fight their way in, and attempt to buy, say, a pack of sugarless chewing gum. The college boy brushes them off like ants at a picnic.

"How 'bout some change, Slick?"

"Whatever," he says, not removing his eyes from a mammoth creature with a foot-long fried chicken burrito. He throws a handful of twenty dollar bills in the underdeveloped person's direction.

Spencer will not allow himself to be distracted by these strange circumstances. Fingering the trigger of his pistol, he strains to be seen and heard around the moving mountains.

He shouts, "Do you want go inside of the back room alongside me?"

Irritated at the interruption, the college boy snaps, "What?"

"Um... can I use the bathroom?"

"You can fire-bomb the bathroom and grind the ashes underfoot, for all I care."

Spencer takes that as permission.