It is at this point that Jerry turns inward. He has no other option. Like a mother cooing to her newborn, he is nudged by his high blood concentration of THC and slips into an introverted interlude of ego-shattering proportions.

His small leather journal lays in a heap on the floor. Jerry realizes the big dufer is staring at it with an expression so heavy it could sink the Tacoma Narrows Bridge.

Jerry gives a roll of his slight shoulders (he really needs to make good on his gym membership), and flips the journal open to his last entry. This insignificant movement glows with its’ own dimension of time.

“March 30th — Attempted small talk with the sexy barista, (oops, we mentioned her again!) she cringed when I complimented her nose ring this morning. Sigh. I will ask her to go to the Bozeman Film Festival show next week even if I have to choke out the words…….. Representative John Murtha’s (to Jerry’s horror, this is his handwriting, yet he didn’t write these words…) death flies in the face of anti-war advocates. His powerful conviction that Iraq needs to be vacated immediately is once again a dominant headline on Democracy Now…..”

The words continue on. Jerry nervously glances around the coffee shop. Who the hell is John Murtha? What the heck is Democracy Now? That sounds really demanding.

Beads of sweat break out across Jerry’s brow, the heat in the Bud and Bean suddenly unbearable. Jerry’s cloak of paranoia only lightly dims his ego death, he wrings his hands, journal still open on the table.

Despite being daunted by the entourage swarming the stage, Jerry moves his leaden limbs toward the alley doorway but is pushed into a quick embrace with one of the Franki Valley groupies, whose sultry gaze is arresting.

Indeed, the ego shattering is arrested. Chalk it up to partial ego shattering.

“You move fast man!” Her enigmatic smile distracts Jerry from the waxiness of her pale skin, the dark hollows around her cat-like eyes.

The fogginess of his head and the creepy writing in his journal, combine in him to blurt, “Excuse me, I’ve got to get outside for some air.”

Eyebrows lift, cat-eye lady responds, “Are you here for the demonstration, too? Representative Murtha was a true American hero!”

“What demonstra…..” Jerry is cut off by a terrible screech. All heads in the Bud and Bean swivel toward the kitchen.