Above my head, where I shouldn’t have been able to see it, was a monitor of some sort with numbers and weird squiggles.A doctor was standing alongsi...e the bed holding a strange-looking hypodermic with a very long needle. “Your heart stopped again,” he said– though it looked like he wasn’t really talking to me. It was more like he was talking to himself as he looked up at the monitor. “We had to inject adrenalin directly into your heart,” he continued. He shrugged his shoulders and added, “.... Why is Murphy’s Diner closed, by the way? Did you shut it down?” I demanded.“Not me personally, but it was n... , “ Eric started to say, but I shut him up with the back of my hand.“Don’t ever let me catch you saying that damn word, you racist prick! Who owned it and are they still alive?” I insisted.“The owner ... Ray Murphy ... he married a n ... Negress ... He was white himself. A race traitor, if you ask me, good Boston Irish guy marrying a colored woman. I mean ... he wasn’t that bad a. ”Claudette was grinning but sat back comfortably in my arms as we rode the rest of the way to the little train station.We picked up our tickets and got on the train. It was more like two trolleys connected together. The tracks were different and the conductor gal explained. “It’s a cog railway with a wheel like a bicycle hub that pulls the train along or keeps its speed regularized on the downhill portions.” There were pictures from under the train and we could see the tracks. It was truly. When I went backinside, Ray’s light was on and, as I passed his door, Icould see that he hadn’t shut it all the way. He waslying under a sheet with a monstrous hard-on poking uplike a tent. He had my photo album, which Bobby likesto look at when I suck him.I opened the door and went in the room. I sat on theside of the bed and looked at the picture that hadcaptured Ray’s attention. It was the one of me in mybra with my back arched just as I was trying to un-hookit. That.