You stroll over to where Beat Chick is lurking and try to strike up a conversation. "So, you’re going ‘On the Road’ as they say, uh?"

"Damn straight, hep cat."

"Boy, after living in this enormous mansion, don’t you think that surviving by your wits on the streets might be a bit of a shock?" you ask.

"Not like the shock of waking up in the morning and finding that you have no body, that you’re just a brain floating in a big jar of formaldehyde. No, my friend, not that big of a shock."

"Well no," you admit, "not that big of a shock…I guess. Has that ever happened to you?"

"Not in so many words, actually not in any of those words. But I have woken up feeling a bit stiff, which is not totally unlike waking up as just a brain floating in formaldehyde."

"Yes it is," you retort, "it’s totally unlike that. It’s nothing like that at all."

"That’s easy for you to say. You’ve never had to live in my shoes," she barks at you and storms away to prepare for her new life as a Bohemian.

You look at the Beat Chick’s younger sister and see that she’s passed out. The family doctor rushes out of the mansion and grabs her up and carries her inside. As he shuts the door behind him you can hear him yell at his nurse to get the leeches and bleeding bowl.

You decide to move on.