"I turn and take in the black clothes and trademark dark glasses. I bow and smile. 'Mr. Roy Orbison, I presume. What brings you to our little emporium?'

'I was passing through town on my way to a rock star conference in Essen when I decided to get some de-worming powder for my dog.'

'Ah! How ironic! Your dog has worms and my Jetta eats worms.' I decide to risk a little joke. 'Perhaps we should bring the two of them together!'

But Roy does not laugh. The eyes behind the dark shades express no mirth. 'What? What are you saying? Are you saying your terrapin should eat worms out of my dog's rear end?' he snarls.

It is all going wrong. My palms sweat. I wish to die. I try to wake up. "