I raced the wind to get to Myles after having to kiss Keyes’ ass over the ad renewal and he blew me off. He was on the street talking with J. J. O’Molloy, they came up together you know, started off together back in the day. I don’t know, maybe I interrupted something. O’Molloy had a long face. Seemed a bit defeated. More than usual that is. Sad. Tried to get to Myles fast before he’d be too far gone but I pretty much missed that window. Ever brief. And he was on the way to the bar behind a few of them, arm in arm, off for a drink. Lenehan in front but I suspect Stephen Dedalus was the prime mover. Wearing better boots today; last time he had holes in his heels. And I saw him on the way to funeral, wonder what he does down there? Weighing a bit on me. Wanted to breeze it by Myles and I was so out of breath he didn’t get much more than Keyes would give the ad, but only for two months and if we put in a puff peace. I can get the image at the library, House of Keys. Keyes, get it? Two crossed keys. I must have interrupted something. Myles turned his eye on me as best he could considering and said I should tell Keyes to kiss his ass. Ths loose flesh of his neck shook like a cock’s wattles. Kiss my hairy white ass. He can kiss my ass he said, got that. Kiss my ass, ok, Póg mo thóin. Got it? And for me kish mein touchess and more formally shakli b’tahat. With heart. Tell him any way you like. Then no break red faced riffing gaand chaat mara besa me culo tel’has teezee kyss meg i raeva isskay ymay assay qabula izinga honi ko’u ‘elemu fila mou to kolo. Ama kwana mwach ka boro too koonam cui mi gaza. Soen my boudt. Cusano fy asen. And that’s straight from the horses mouth. Tell him.