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"
I
guess
so
.
I
knew
a
guy
once
lived
on
sugar
for
a
while
.
He
’
d
go
in
the
Automat
.
Ten
cents
for
a
cup
of
coffee
,
drink
half
,
fill
it
up
with
sugar
.
At
least
he
didn
’
t
starve
to
death
.
"
As
usual
,
I
wondered
if
that
guy
wasn
’
t
Morph
—
a
strange
one
,
tough
,
ageless
man
with
a
manicure
.
I
think
he
was
a
fairly
well
-
educated
man
,
but
only
because
of
his
processes
,
his
technique
of
thinking
.
His
erudition
hid
in
a
demi
-
world
dialect
,
a
language
of
the
bright
,
hard
,
brassy
illiterate
.
"
Is
that
why
you
use
one
lump
of
sugar
?
"
I
asked
.
He
grinned
.
"
Everybody
’
s
got
a
theory
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
don
’
t
care
how
beat
a
guy
is
,
he
’
ll
have
a
theory
why
he
’
s
beat
.
A
theory
can
lead
you
down
the
garden
path
’
cause
you
’
ll
follow
it
in
spite
of
road
signs
.
I
guess
that
’
s
what
fooled
me
about
your
boss
.
"
I
hadn
’
t
had
coffee
away
from
home
in
a
long
time
.
It
wasn
’
t
very
good
.
It
didn
’
t
taste
like
coffee
at
all
but
it
was
hot
,
and
I
spilled
some
on
my
shirt
,
so
I
know
it
was
also
brown
.
"
I
guess
I
don
’
t
know
what
you
mean
.
"
"
I
been
trying
to
track
where
I
got
the
idea
.
I
guess
it
’
s
because
he
says
he
’
s
been
here
forty
years
.
Thirty
-
five
years
or
thirty
-
seven
years
,
okay
,
but
not
forty
years
.
"
"
I
guess
I
’
m
not
too
bright
.
"
"
That
would
make
it
1920
.
You
still
don
’
t
dig
it
?
Well
,
in
a
bank
you
’
ve
got
to
case
people
quick
,
check
hustlers
,
you
know
.
Pretty
soon
you
get
a
built
-
in
set
of
rules
.
You
don
’
t
even
think
about
it
.
It
just
clicks
into
place
—
and
you
can
be
wrong
.
Maybe
he
did
come
in
1920
.
I
could
be
wrong
.
"
I
finished
my
coffee
.
"
Time
to
sweep
out
,
"
I
said
.
