“Piss off,” said Ken. He tried to stay in the doorway by pressing his hands against each side of the door jamb, but the stocky bartender’s push was forceful and humbling. As he was shoved onto the glass-ridden pavement, Ken stared back at the bartender, his hands weathered and empty, his eyes sad.

“Where do I go now?” he said.

Then two police officers lifted him onto his feet, and like two men in front of a stinky cobra, jumped back as Ken blew chunks all over their shiny white police cruiser.