Chapter 5-- The Peripheral Mr. Jampers

up the steep, narrow stairs more quickly than usual, the angle turn to the left with more
steps, in diminishing light, and the last little added turn of yet two or three more steps.
into the light of the theatre manager's office.

the worn down carpet. the mahogany desk, almost too large for the room, on a diagonal to
the left on entering. the brass ashtray on its corner.

lantern style lamps, variously over-detailed. the black, button-padded chair with the one
hunk of cottony stuffing protruding from the seat back like the tongue of a drooling dog.

water carafes in overabundance, in all parts of the office, but apparently all ready for
and in at least occasional use, being partially filled.
the billboard across the Avenue, obstructing the view through the picture windows in
the west wall.

the bone of an ancient water buffalo, mounted on its curve onto a wooden pedestal with
plaque, setting atop the liquor cabinet. the latter doubtlessly concealing more water
carafes, and completely 'spiritless'.


facing the door: the ashtray more clearly visible, as always in exact equidistance from
both edges of the desk's, (now left), 'upper' corner.

the desk otherwise spotless and uncluttered. except, perhaps, yes, the manager's stamp album. from the right end of the desk it is clear now, despite the upper half
of Jampers's shoulders, as well as his head, bending forward, upon the desk top.

the afternoon light seems too bright for a nap. an implausible excuse, in any case.


And there is not a drop of blood...surprisingly.