d and then tossed the imaginary glass over his shoulder。 The people were
back again； fresh from their costume ball； studying him； laughing behind their
hands。 He could feel them。 If the backbar had featured a mirror instead of those
damn stupid empty shelves； he could have seen them。 Let them stare。 Fuck them。
Let anybody stare who wanted to stare。
〃No； you never did；〃 he told Lloyd。 〃Few men ever return from the fabled
Wagon； but those who do e with a fearful tale to tell。 When you jump on； it
seems like the brightest； cleanest Wagon you ever saw； with ten…foot wheels to
keep the bed of it high out of the gutter where all the drunks are laying around
with their brown bags and their Thunderbird and their Granddad Flash's Popskull
Bourbon。 You're away from all the people who throw you nasty looks and tell you
to clean up your act or go put it on in another town。 From the gutter； that's
the finest…lookin Wagon you ever saw； Lloyd my boy。 All hung with bunting and a
brass band in front and three majorettes to each side； twirling their batons and
flashing their panties at you。 Man； you got to get on that Wagon and away from
the juicers that are straining canned heat and smelling their own puke to get
high again and poking along the gutter for butts with half an inch left below
the filter。〃
He drained two more imaginary drinks and tossed the glasses back over his
shoulder。 He could almost hear them smashing on the floor。 And goddam if he
wasn't starting to feel high。 It was the Excedrin。
〃So you climb up；〃 he told Lloyd。 〃and ain't you glad to be there。 My God yes；
that's affirmative。 That Wagon is the biggest and best floa