The cat tinkled the keys with an air of grace,

The cat tinkled the keys with an air of grace, as the little girl danced.

Or was the cat dancing and the little girl watching?

Watching/Dancing? Dancing/Watching? Did it mater whether the girl or the cat was doing either? As long as the Dancing and Watching occurred, did it mater whom did what to whom? No

wonder I had a misplaced sense of reference. I put down the book I was reading, "Women Dance, Cats Watch " and looked out at Heathrow through the rain streaked window. I tapped

a lot in the early days with Gregory Hines. I still had the shoes. Now this London rain makes me think of Gregory which only enlarges the ennui rising in my

gallbladder. I don't even know what a gallbladder is. Is it like a bladder? I'm no doctor. Just a guy getting wet in London with Gregory Hines' shoes. I thought back to when I

was dry, had never visited Europe let alone London and Gregory Hines's shoes weren't my problem. I needed to get hold of a gall bladder as quick as poss. The bins of the clinic

be repurposed as a gall bladder? Perhaps, but I'd need a spleen, some chewing gum & a whole lot of luck. I began to rummage for what I needed, clutching the sphincter lovingly.

I glimpsed at the dead man's face and realized he was smiling. Was he smiling a minute ago? Is my entire arm really up this guy's ass? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.