12It was daybreak when I awoke. The inside of my head throbbed like
Gene Krupa was playing his drums; the outside sported a lump the
size of the Himalayas. I managed to get to my feet and headed for the shower. The blast of water felt good. It would have felt better had I remembered to remove my clothes. But at least part of the stain from last night's brownie did come off my shirt. For every loss, there's a gain, for every dark cloud, there's … Ah, never mind.
I downed a couple of aspirins. That helped to convince Krupa to take five. Meanwhile the Himalayas were diminishing to the scale of the Adirondacks. I toweled myself, put on my moth-eaten but nice-and-toasty robe, and surveyed the apartment to see what the lousy bastard who had busted in had swiped. Nothing! What could the thief
