His seat, which he did not own, was situated in his park, which did not belong to him, for his enjoyment, though not without the enjoyment of others (for it was an open relationship). The seat supported him, it never left his back or his butt or the earth, he relied entirely upon it. It was at this precise moment, well not at this moment now, the moment rather all this happened in, that Pip, or Mick, I cannot recall which, and it likely matters little what name we call him, was in the position of rest upon a carved and stained, one might hope, wood slab supported poorly by some metal of some kind, if I cared enough to investigate I might know more fully which kind the some kind was, but I don’t, and the some metal of some kind is formed and attached to a solid concrete block or oblong or however it freely formed in the dirt, adjacent the wood slab, if you may stoop so low to call that dirt. The day was not pleasant in the slightest, it may have been raining, though probably it was not, or it may have been snowing, but I doubt it was either winter or cold or snowing, but with certainty I believe there is to be one thing for sure and that is that it was not pleasant in the slightest degree whatsoever. The sun was splendidly warm, billions of miles away, Pip or Mick or was it Jack was unaware, however, of this fact, at least as far as I am aware of this matter he wasn’t aware of this matter, but included, constantly, now, is the certain possibility of dire error. What he thought I cannot tell, but not for the reason like others that it is unknown to others, for every other one knew exactly what Pip or Mick or Jack was thinking was nothing at all, and we all knew with relative certainty that he thought not for the reason being Pip or Mick or Jack, ah well, he was on the verge of what the philosophers of our time call death. Unthinkable. Unthinking. That’s Pip or Mick or Jack if I know him, which I most certainly do not any more than I know you, and I am certain I do not. Presently, while I hesitate to tell you at all the state of this Jack or Pick or Mip, or Jip or Mick or Pip, or Jick or Pack or Mip, or Pip or Mick or Jack, because it is humorous to tell, and thus outlawed, but certainly no laughing matter or lauding, for that matter, would be appropriate in these mutterings. By all means and ends this was the end of he whose name I have forgotten with absolute uncertainty. He sat on his bench which did not belong to him in his park which was shared by every other one and he was there not warmed or cooled or rained upon but he was in that state which is unstatable by me of which he sat supported by only one, his seat upon which he sat supported, alone.