But yet she Makes an Appearance in Chapter 16 of every book ever written, especially if I have anything to do with it. It's the Saab Effect.

But Today, and for Tomorrow as well, there's an Ashtray that needs cleaning and she ain't cleaning it, and there's a would-be Sponsor who wants a Nigger and Colleen ain't it. Let's give her that much. There's some stupid bitch out there who wants a 4th Step written, by Colleen, about every man with whom she's Had Sex, and she ain't writing. Thank God for it, too, and Tender Mercies go a Long Way.

Yet there's Realms to which they don't extend, like most of the Rest of Colleen Shehan's Life. 'Cause you can get Raped by Selfish Programs (as they Themselves call them), or you can just Rape Yourself. And when Colleen got that Dildo 18 inches up her Ass, she didn't NEED any help from THEM, to be Sure. Get it?

So she decided that she needed to go back and do herself some Drugs, but then of course there was the problem of Who was gonna Enable her? As she'd be pretty much Out of It and fucking a Lot of People. In the past she'd had Small-Time Sugar Daddies, but now she was married and her husband, Mike, sure wasn't gonna do it, so she started picking fights with him out of her Squirrelly Frustration and then she maxed out a few of his Cards to get a little Cash, and got on the horn and started calling around the Country looking for a Patron. As she was now in her mid-30s, and her latest Drug Flings over the past few months had done some serious damage to her Looks, she figured she had maybe one more good Sugar Daddy Run left in her, and she was gonna Make it Count.

Now most of her Queerbait Friends who'd put her up in the past were tired of her shit, but finally, after Arduous Research, she found a wealthy doctor in Atlanta, who she'd been Fuckbuddies with Some Years Before, to put her up and she'd give him Cunt, but when she did it with others, she had to make then wear a Condom, that was the Deal.

Isn't this just beautiful!

But of course she took to lying to him just like all the Others, and when she landed him with the Warts and the Clap, she was out the door on her Ass. So she became a Working Girl, out of a one-room apartment she got by Blackmailing this Married dude she's fucked! And she loved to fuck, she was pretty Indiscriminate really, and she started fucking for Rock and Booze and whatever money or whatever other drugs she could get. This went on for Several Months. She was EASY, man, and All Atlanta knew it — she'd be fucked up in some Bar and for a Dime Rock, she was Theirs for the Night. And without a Dime Rock, she was still theirs for the Night! Lucky for her she still had a good Body on her from good Genes, but it was ragging out fast, and she was such a wigged-out Rockster her Dudes rarely ever came back a second time, even if they'd had the Ball-Drain of their Lives in her Barely Sentient Twat.

So one night in March, Bottoming Out, high, she called up Mike, her Former Husband. Begged him for help. She was telling him, I need Rehab and whatever you can do to get me it please Please please! She was crying, she was calling Collect, she was about to get kicked out of her Room and kicked out of Town, more or less.

And for reasons best known to God, Mike had Pity, for he still loved Colleen Deeply, no matter what, and he booked her a spot in Rehab in the city where they used to live and bought a one-way last-second ticket for her online, and all he said was I'll pick you up and I'll visit you every day and we'll figure it out from there.

The next day, Colleen couldn't remember half of what she'd told his ass, but decided she'd rather get a rock if she could than go to Rehab, which is what she did, and when he called her later, she said no way, whatever, I never said any of that to you.

And, man, was he pissed! And the Ticket was Non-Refundable but was good for a Year only to the person whose name was ON it, which was Colleen! Who, by this time, had found a former Fuckbuddy in Portland, Oregon, who had a little money, and she didn't tell HIM what kind of shape she was in, but Pussy for Substances! Always worked for her! And a flight to go begin this shit anew in Portland is on what she used Mike's Ticket, and he heard neither Hide nor Hare of her after That. But he was home alone remembering her Vibrancy and how good it had been when it had been good, and that for their First Anniversary he'd bought her a Leica Camera, as she was the most talented Photographer he'd Ever Known, and about subjects like that he was a well-versed Man. She only took one roll of film with it. In a Cemetery. Jesus.

They were great shots, though, and he still had them, though he couldn't bring himself to get them out. Now, the only images left of her he had were those lodged forever in his head like bullets: Colleen, bouncy and alive, smiling and talking and feeding nuts to the squirrels in Lincoln Park; Colleen, with whom God had Joined him, rubbing her leg against his under the sheets of their bed while each of them read; Colleen. Sumptuous and Warm, under him, curled around him, and his body rising to Meet the Rapture, so easily, so long ago.

And as he lay him Down to Sleep, he thought, Things in Life are Narratives, albeit seemingly Episodic ones — yes, Episodes of Narratives, each in its own part. And maybe for him, that part was Part One. And laughter and tears, curses to the Heavens, Love and Sex and Death and Everything, well, they Were what they Were, he thought, and they Are what they Are. But however he Chose to Think of it, Part One was Over.