Dave and I are bicycling, and we stop to pee on the north side of 99W. Dave pees right by a house, but I go up further into the woods in order to be a little more polite. But before I can do my business, some girls come out to pick berries, so I don't get to finish.

They end up inviting us into their house, which is set up for a potluck, as if for a funeral, and it seems to be at grandma's house. There we are eating and talking, and somebody is talking about this lady that is crazy - first they are talking about her husband being crazy, and all the weird things that he says, and then they say that the lady says she talks to Satan. She says she doesn't want to be involved in something because she has a personal relationship with Satan. It comes down to this bunny rabbit.

"Oh, come on," I say, "give me a break!" but they come out with this big pink bunny rabbit that they say talks to her from Satan. It does kind of talk, but in a really quiet lo-fi voice, too quiet to hear if there is any other noise in the room. I listen to it carefully, and discover that the rabbit has a radio inside it, tuned to some random station, nearly too quiet to hear. "It's just a radio!" I exclaim, making a bit of mockery of her idiotic Satan ideas.

We end up in a room with all these hippie-type people, just sitting around and talking, and they come around and offer us a plate of something that looks like flat bread torn into little strips, with some crumbly brown sticks on the side. The brown looks like hashish to me, so I say "no thank you, I don't want any hash."

"No, it isn't hash," the guy says, "it's a new drug called 'skin'. Try some, go ahead." He's referring to the strips like flat bread, or sort of like tripe. I think the brown sticks are just chocolate, to add flavor.

We try some, and a few minutes later Steve (who was Dave before) says "hey, that does have a really pleasant effect". Then we go into an adjoining room and start packing up our stuff as if leaving a hotel, and a guy comes in and throws Steve a basketball-sized bag of "skin", telling him since he liked it, he can have some.

I stop by the kitchen on the way out, where some older women are still fussing over the potluck from before, re-presenting the food. The girl who invited us in is getting ready for work, getting dressed up in a uniform, and I realize as we're putting our suitcases in the car that I forgot to say goodbye to her, when she'd been so nice to us. But I have forgotten her name, if I ever knew it. I go back in the kitchen and read something that says her name is Sarah.

I run into her out by the car, as she is leaving for work. "Hey, Sarah!" I call out. But then I realize it might not even be her. She comes out with her younger sister, who is ugly and strangely deformed, with a narrow nose and pinched face. Then I'm not sure which is which; it seems I was sitting right by Sarah in the house, but didn't get a good look at her. But the girl I meant to address, the slightly heavy girl going to work in the white-shirted uniform, answers me absent-mindedly.

I thank her for her hospitality, and say that I'll probably see her around soon. But here I am near Sherwood, where I rarely hang out, so I'm pretty sure I won't just run into her. I suggest that I can give her my email address, but neither of us has a pen and paper, and anyway she has to get to work. So I say I'll write it down and leave it for her in the house.