We go downstairs and see this guy who has all his stuff spread out on his bed. He has cheap whiskey and cigarettes and clothing and a passport and rolling papers and fireworks and cash. He also has this moldy candy with bugs crawling all over it and he offers it to us but I say, “No, thank you,” given the ants and whatever they call those little insects that are smaller and more menacing than ants. “So what have you been doing these days, man? You been here long?” I ask him. He tells me that he’ll be here for a while longer on business.
