"Psst, Mary," whispered Bishop. "Mmmmm," replied Mary, lost in dreams of debauchery. "Mary!" said Bishop, loudly, causing Jazzmin and Pony to stir. "WHAT?" was the irritated response from Mary, naked on the woven paisley bedspread. "Hey, man, got any dough in your stash box?" "No!" said Mary, rolling over, trying to regain her dream. It involved a barnyard full of chickens and Robert Plant selling hash brownies. "C'mon, babe! Don't bogart all the dough!"

"FUCK!" snapped Mary, forcing herself upright. She rolled off the mattress onto the floor -- a five-inch drop, since the mattress was on the floor. "What the fuck do you need all this money for?" "Eucharist, baby! The Eucharist is back in town!"

"What the fuck!" cried Mary, brightening. "With some of that Moroccan brown shit?"

"With some of that Moroccan brown shit, baby! We're all gonna get well! You and me and Jazzmin and everybody."

"Well, then, here's some bread for the Eucharist! Tell him I said hi!" She kissed Bishop happily. He left.