After years in the loony bin business, Muriel Sparks is fearful that it has become contagious. Get out of my office, Chester, she shouts, but O'Gatty is beyond insult. His immunity from her rips comes at the cost of his liver. A few months ago Chester had been a swimming pool attendant in Beverly Hills. That lasted only until he witnessed the Lucky Bacchus suicide. How could O'Gatty be jealous of such a fool. Lucky was the screenwriter who jumped into his pool with a typewriter taped to his chest. The machine was plugged into a pool side extension. Chester thought Lucky was kidding around. He didn't see the cord. After seeing him on the news, no one needed Chester. He reminded them of how cruel careers can be in motion pictures. But the Blue Motel is easy because the guests are afraid of water.

Come back here, Muriel hisses. They'll do it with their clothes on. Fat Daddy is dangling a tummy, and Mrs. Sparks's breasts sag into her armpits. They get down on the cheap orange carpet and O'Gatty will apply lotion to his sores tonight--if the police give him a chance. Next the motel shrink arrives from the strike at County Hospital. Gripes about scabs in surgery. Everyone employed by Sparks and O'Gatty is on low end of the ladder. Cursed. Dr. Bill is the sort of medic who started his career in childhood by stuffing matches down sparrows' throats and striking them on the sidewalk, just to see what would happen. He orders Muriel to leave for the day--which is why she keeps him on--but today Muriel has a good excuse to go home early. Her son has borrowed his father's Mercedes to drive to Mexico with his grandmother, and Muriel is more nuts than usual. Whenever Muriel mentions anything related to her first husband's success, O'Gatty turns on the television.



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