. . . Slumped over on a Greyhound and dripping blood. You're right, I am like Ratso in Midnight Cowboy. He didn't have a nosebleed, though, did he, at the end? Damndest thing, from one nostril. Right, the left. Sorry 'bout that. Never had one b'fore. Google "nosebleeds"? Me? I should? Don' think so. I don't do Google. Avoidance? Really? Y'a sayin', 'cuz I don't Google I'm—what? livin' in denial? No? Well, 's what it sounds like to me. Whaddya some kinda shrink? "Fuggedabout it!" like Ratso would say. But, seriously, for conversation's sake, cuz, y'know, it's a long way to Tipperary, let's just say you're right. I mean, let's grant whatcha say 'bout nosebleeds and denial, cuz, y'know, 's what I'm hearin'—let's just say that nosebleeds and denial are like—what?—like a logjam, say, that suddenly breaks and whoosh! in tandem—whoosh!— drippin' red from schnoz, schnozzle, sniffer, snitch—speaking of which, have you ever noticed the many sibilant synonyms for nose? No? Me neither, till just now. Whoosh! Funny, that. But why so few for blood? No, no, sibilants I get. B's a labial. Why no synonyms for blood? Sibilants, labials? Who knows where you pick up stuff like that, or why it sticks? Me a linguist? 'S funny. Oh, thanks. 'S ironic. Well, 's just that my partner—well, my-ex, my late actually—used to have tissues all over the house. Well, trailer, rental really. We called it a house. Whatever, tissue boxes all over—still another thing we'd go to war over. Y'know, the ones with perforated tops? compact designs? No-no, the boxes not the wars. That's funny, though. Anyways, they were all over the place. No, not the trailers. Well, them too, come to think of it. But no, no, the tissues. You're funny, though, really. Anyone ever tell ya that? But, no, the tissue boxes I mean, and not just Kleenex boutique. Blue stripe bone, bamboo, pigeon and poodle,—I'm talkin' first-rate, top-of-the line, bang-up boxes. But the weird thing is I never had one. Made me feel sorta-sorta— what? Yeah, guilty, that's it. You understand then? Those tissue boxes all over the place like that—who wouldn't? Exactly! Cryin' out for a trailer bleed—exactly. But I never had one. My partner? No, none neither. Oh sure, 's possible and I never noticed. But you would, wouldn'tcha, notice something like that? in tight space? Living close-in like that, I mean, you'd notice something like a nosebleed, don'tcha think? Of course you would. But I never did, not that—but, like I say, me, I never had one. My partner—I never noticed. Y'mean all the tissue boxes? Well, that's my  point, don'tcha see? I don't know why, 'cept o'course at the end, when, o'course, they came in handy. So what's in Miami? . . .