I almost walked right by the damn thing. Almost didn’t spot it and pick it up. Almost didn’t sniff it and feel the texture of its sides. Almost didn’t rip off its sweater and wear it as my own.

Of course I’m talking about the goat that was tied on the corner to the crosswalk sign. He was pissed. He bleated in anger and tried to eat the tin can I had tied to my belt that morning in an effort to make people thing I was a car carrying a newlywed couple. I got a bunch of rice thrown at me, so it must have been a success. Then again, I did go into China Palace and just start screaming in people’s faces. That poor family just wanted to decompress after a long day of backgammon, and I made them get upset. Very upset.

But not all was lost – on the way out of the restaurant, I noticed a peculiar item in the trash. See, China Palace has this habit of having an open garbage can next to the buffet, which one must walk by in order to get a table (a pretty good marketing idea, if I do say so myself – the only flaw is the guy that comes to empty the trash always has dandruff, so when he bends over the grab the can, flakes fall into the vegetables. Plus the can houses a small family of rats, so they can frequently be seen carrying tiny baskets and sampling the wares of the buffet). It was sitting right on top, looking mystical since the steam coming from one of the leaking warmers was floating over it. It was the cup. Oh, sorry, The Cup. Yes, It’s that important. Hypnotized, I observed Its many facets. It was a white paper Cup, approximately 12 ounces in volume. The white exterior was unsoiled save for the brown coffee stain on the rim – the drinker’s bottom lip could be seen clearly in the stain. I could see some coffee still sitting in The sideways Cup. At this point, I was able to break out of my daze, and I slowly reached for It. A hand shot from across the room and knocked mine away! Bewildered, I looked up and saw this gaunt man staring at me with sunken eyes. He told me to leave It alone. I told him to fuck himself. I reached for it again, and the same thing happened! I gave him a look, told him to stop, and reached again. Again he knocked away my hand. This happened several more times until I finally just picked up a chair and threw it at him. While he was busy slapping it away, I grabbed The Cup and ran as fast as my little legs could carry me. After I ran straight through the plate glass door, I ran and ran and ran until I got next door. There was still some coffee left! I drank it and felt empowered. I felt like I could bobsled. I felt like I could make a television out of a bushel of potatoes. I felt like I could sleep until the sun burned out. But all of these thoughts were thrown from my mind when the nasally dry cleaner into whose shop I had run started complaining about my making a mess. I looked down. There was mud everywhere. I lifted up my shoes, but they were clean. I looked at the clerk in confusion. I started to explain my case, but he was not having it. So I shook off the panic and calmly walked out through the plate-glass door.

I was full of energy. I felt like I could press license plates with my teeth. I felt like I could boil a spiderweb. I felt like I could push a ferris wheel along with a young sycamore bow that I found next to the gully. So I bolted over to the park and did some cartwheels. I squished about 10 bugs. Their families cried in sorrow. I shouted “EEEEEE” like a lemon in a cheap hotel. Many of the people at the park didn’t really care – they were elated at my ebullience.

I was awake for the next twelve days, completely happy. I hugged Charles until he developed rashes. I made amends with the asshole dog. Well, for about 25 minutes. Then I happily chased him down and shaved his tail, laughing all along. He whimpered. I laughed in response. After this, I even sold my collection of water bottles to the grocery store! I got 25 cents!!! Not the highlight of the experience, but definitely up there. I guess the highlight was when I went into the first-grade classroom at the local elementary school and wrote “doody” on the chalkboard, causing the young whippersnappers to laugh and the teacher to turn a bright crimson. Not because she was embarrassed by the word, but because she is allergic to the letter “d”. Plus she has AIDS.