2012 ***y dresses in the right-hand .

he add at least one more item to the bacilli column; it was almost a point of honor. He struggled over the last item. Garlic, garlic. It must affect the germ. But how? He started to write in the right-hand column, but before he could finish, fury came from far down like lava shooting up to the crest of a volcano. Damn! He crumpled the paper into a ball in his fist and hurled it away. He stood up, rigid and frenzied, looking around. He wanted to break things, anything. "So you thought your frenzied period was over, did you!" he yelled at himself, lurching forward to fling over the bar. Then he caught himself and held back. No, no, don't get started, he begged. Two shaking hands ran through his lank blond hair. His throat moved convulsively and he shuddered with the repressed craving for violence. The sound of the whisky gurgling into the glass angered him. He turned the bottle upside down and the whisky spurted out in great gushes, splashing up the sides of the glass and over onto the mahogany top of the bar. He swallowed the whole glassful at once, head thrown back, whisky running out the edges of his mouth. I'm an animal! he exulted. I'm a dumb, stupid animal and I'm going to drink! He emptied the glass, then flung it across the room. It bounced off the bookcase and rolled across the rug. "Oh, so you won't break, won't you!" he rasped inside his head, leaping across the rug to grind the glass into splinters under his heavy shoes. Then he spun and stumbled to the bar again. He filled another glass and poured the contents down his throat. I wish I had a pipe with whisky in it! he thought. I'd connect a goddamn hose to it and flush whisky down me until it came out my ears! Until I floated in it! He flung away the glass. Too slow, too slow, damn it! He drank directly from the uptilted bottle, gulping furiously, hating himself, punishing himself with the whisky burning down his rapidly swallowing throat. "I'll choke myself!" he st