scotch.
Hell with rum. I dismissed the thought from my mind. I picked up glass
number two, downed it. I wondered if the Doll was feeling sorry for
herself.

"Incorrect, Mr. Anders," he said. "The rum is no stronger than usual."

I jerked. I stared at the black sticky-looking thing he was. I shut my
eyes tightly, snapped them open again. Then I worked the glasses again
with the bottle.

"Don't be shocked, Mr. Anders. I'm not a mind reader. It's just that
you discarded the thought of a moment ago. I picked it up, see?"

"Sure," I said. "You picked it out of the junk pile of my mind, where
all my little gems go."

"Correct, Mr. Anders."

It was about time to empty the glasses again. I varied the routine
this time by picking up number-two glass first.

"Light a cigarette, Mr. Anders."

I'm a guy to go along with a gag. I fished a cigarette out, lit it
"Lit," I said. And just at that instant the stout dame without the
shave hit a sour one way up around A above high C. My ears cringed. I
forgot the cigarette and glared across the room, trying to see through
the black swirling mass that stood in front of the TV screen.

"Puff, Mr. Anders."

I puffed. The puff sounded like somebody getting his lips on a very
full glass of beer and quickly sucking so that foaming clouds don't go
down the sides of the glass and all over the bar. I didn't have any
cigarette.

"_Ah!_"

I blinked. The black swirling mass was going gently to and fro. At
about head height on a man my cigarette was sticking out from it and a
little curl of smoke was coming from the end. Even as I looked the
curl ceased and then a big blue cloud of smoke barreled across the
room toward my face.

"Your cigarette, Mr. Anders."

"Nice trick," I said. "Took it out from between my lips and I never
felt it. Nice trick."

"Incorrect, Mr. Anders. When the singer flatted that particular note
your attention was diverted momentarily. Your senses are exceptional,
you see. Your ears register pain at false sounds. Therefore, you
discarded the thoughts of your cigarette during the moment you
suffered with the singer. Following this reasoning, your cigarette
went into abandonment. And I salvaged it. No trick at all, really."

I thought, to hell with the shot glasses. I put the rum bottle to my
lips and tilted it up and held it there until it wasn't good for
anything anymore. Then I took it down by the neck and heaved it
straight at the black mass.

The televis