He sat, well, not so much sat, as fell into, which was still quite the accomplishment of balance, given that he’d already drank a half-gallon of wine, the really expensive kind too, that comes in a bottle, from a faraway place like California, where it’s sunny, not like here, where it never does anything but rain, instead of one of those cheap ones that comes in a box from the place down on the corner that smells like cat urine, and has that strange man outside that talks about his love affair with a zebra, in a chair.