Tintoretto. St. Mark's Body Brought to Venice. 1562–1566.

Damn, Dell was heavy. This surprised Ketty; Dell looked all of about 70 pounds in his skinny jeans when he swaggered on stage. And that 70 pounds included his massive glittery belt buckle in the shape of his name, which Ketty always thought was dumb, because "Dell" is a dumb name.

At any rate, Dell seemed to have taken on some extra weight now that he was passed out. Every shot he'd had earlier, so innocuous and amber-gold in the small glass, apparently had the equivalent of adding thirty pounds to the human body.

Jude and Gere made up the rest of the pop-rock band Brain Lemonade. Along with Ketty, they donned their bearded old men disguises as they smuggled Dell's schwasted five-ton form out of the hotel into the tour bus while Brain Lemonade fans milled around post-show, scheming of ways to wind up in the band members' bedrooms. The fans couldn't see one of their heroes like this. What would it do for record sales? Questions like that were why they had to keep telling fans they were single. Meanwhile, idiot-faced bassist Gere was married to a 67-year-old painter of flower vaginas who lived in Florida and liked 'em young.

If all this wasn't annoying enough, Dell was starting to come to—but not come to enough to walk his own ass to the bus. Instead, he gurgled and groaned and philosophized.

"What's the point of all this?" Dell moaned, drool cascading down his face. Ketty resisted the urge to drop him. Would it really be such a catastrophe if they had to get a new guitar player?

"What's the point of living?" Dell continued, this time louder. A couple fans turned their way, but in their disguises, the guys looked old, thus they were of no interest.

Ketty didn't answer Dell as he helped the other guys stuff him in the bus, but whatever the answer to Dell's question was, Ketty had a feeling it was the only thing keeping him from strangling Dell right then.

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