He wakes up. The cold it never ends. Hazelnut coffee wakes him up. Scary monkeys are playing cymbals on the television genuflecting to a car. Preparations are made for drowning in snow. A new credit card arrives. He pretends it is real money. A new car title arrives. He gives his car away. His albatross will now be used for charity dragged away rusting and weeping through the snow. Then he watches olympics and men and women sliding over the ice and even more is coming and Al Gore is on the $500 note in Futurama themed Monopoly money and maybe one day he will be on the real $500 note when all that will be will be one slim jim at the gas station except there will be no gas stations because gas will be illegal or it will have run out. Then he walks past the diaper again and now it has become a fixture, a sculpture that neither wind nor snow nor rain nor civic duty nor public employees will remove and it will no doubt stay in the sidewalk forever and pilgrimages will occur to the dirty diaper and babies will be blessed and lepers will be cured and it will have a cordon and people will pay to see it and a ticket booth will be set up and a shop will be set up and soon it will be part of the Tourist itinerary. Then he falls asleep thinking and wondering in equal measure.