Pool_1

Over ranting, "It doesn't fade! It doesn't fade!" Jake tried to counsel, "Man. This is not your gig. No kid of the Jazz Man should waste his time here. You needed to experience this. This is my contribution to your education. You help those children," Jake offered as an assumed good-by. "How do you know about the children?" a stunned response. "I'm not deaf and you are the Jazz Man's kid. It's in you. You're the next level." "Next level. Next level. Next level," Marcus repeated over and over as he walked, dripping wet, in his gray green stained BVDs past the head cook - who clutched his Buddha belly laughing , past Benny - now animated, babbling about the 'good part', up the elevator as riders dove to get off, down the hospital corridor as visitors pasted themselves to the walls as he reeked by, past the security guard in the main lobby - who just gawked in odor dodging bewilderment, to the general parking lot and to the borrowed family car whose bumper seemed to smile as staring visitor onlookers were invisible to him. His only problem, "It doesn't fade!", was how to keep this smell off the car seat. An old baby blanket in the trunk of the car was a desperate surprise. "Thanks, Gabriel," he thought of his new guardian angel, "Freaking thanks."