We walk down the big hill toward a bar named Sandstorm and Jarret says he hates it there. He can't not say how much he hates Sandstorm. Hating Sandstorm is one of the things Jarret cares about. He coughs something up and spits it on the sidewalk in front of the bar.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"Don't know."

"Are you taking me somewhere far away so that I won't be able to find my way back?"

"Yes."

"Because if you're trying to get me lost so you can kick me out, I'm going to be pissed."

"Yeah, well."

"Because I left my whole Beanie Baby collection at your place."

"I'm going to use your Beanie Babies for toilet paper." Jarret says. "So soft on my buttocks."