The three left the park, and soon arrived at a seedy looking building. A dull sign pulsed l’Hôtel Heureuse. Heeeeee uhh rooooo eeeeeezz? Mick decided the building was inedible. André darted inside, patting the goose bumps on his arms. Admus, on the other hand, was numb to both cold and pain, and took his time entering the building, but Lucifer was freezing, and for his sake Admus followed André inside. André waved them over and put his index finger over his dry lips, motioning for silence. Admus didn’t understand why, for the crusty lobby was full of noise. He looked around but saw nothing. He walked over to the nearest wall and pressed his icy ear against the flaking floral wallpaper. The noise increased about twenty decibels… cockroaches were atrocious creatures. Nothing to listen to; just noise. He lost interest and followed André up the stairs. One flight became six, and they were in front of room six sixty one. They walked in cautiously. André locked the door behind them, and turned on the solitary light, a bulb which hung undulating overhead. Its sharp yellow rays muted by the shadows of countless flies. The walls were bare, with the exception of a lonesome clock. It was nearing two in the morning. “Whose place is this, André?” “Ours, for the night.” André made himself comfortable in the middle of the room. Admus put Lucifer down and joined him. “What’s your poison?” André was no longer smiling. Admus looked over to Lucifer for advice. He always did, when there was an important decision to be made. Lysergic Acid Diethylamide. Tell that oaf to be generous. “I’ll have some sugar. Lots of sugar.” “And would you like a side of Tootsie 18
rolls with your sugar? Go big or go home, my Adman.” “Okay.” Admus pondered. “I pick big.” He was handed the desired dosage. They were silent. He devoured them. The relief for his anticipation as to what was to come was almost immediate: trails of light from the swinging bulb wrapped their arms around him and squeezed; the numbers on the clock rearranged themselves, performing a numerical ballet (it was, apparently, midnight again). Then, billions more people entered the apartment. Where