Captain Jim is Ray’s new role model, warts and all. Even seeing him at the window that night, the masturbating god—even that hasn’t turned Ray away from him. It’s produced the opposite effect, humanizing and magnifying the Sacred Goat, in a sacrimental way, as if part of Jim’s mission as "god," small-g, is to lend dignity to the twisted secrets of humanity by acting them out, gloriously or shamefully.

After a quiet satsang, the two of them stroll along the ridge behind the farm, tripping lightly. “A cool place,” Jim pronounces, looking down on the house. “But people’s troubles go on no matter how cool things may be, ain’t that right, Ray?”

Ray nods. The world is out of joint. Troubles. You could call it that.

“Hey, Ray. Look me in the eyes.” Captain Jim has turned on him sharply. “I know what you want to tell me: that you wake up every day wondering when it's gonna get real again, ain’t that right, brother? When's real life gonna start, when’s the big buzzer gonna buzz? When’s the fella with the big hook gonna pull you off the kiddie stage and shove you up on the real one, hm? C’mere. Come close to me.”

Ray inches forward.

“Right up to me.”

Ray takes a step closer--

POW! Jim slaps him broadside in the face. Ray recovers; Jim slaps him again. POW!

“Wake up, Ray!” Jim is directly in his face--and loud, louder than Ray has ever heard him. “I’m going to predict the future for you, brother, the near future. I don’t need no I Ching to do it, either. I know what you're thinking--who the hell am I to talk to anybody, right? A sorry runt like me? Drug addict, alcohol abuser, sex maniac, jerk-off artist. I'm all these things, brother--but still you want to follow me, don’t you? Ain’t that spooky? It sure spooks me! You ready for this? Need another slap?”

Ray can bring up hardly more than a squeak. “No, I’m. . . .”

POW!.