. . . Let go of my ankle, Ray. I’m ready to float away. Ready to cut my brother down from that tree and carry him to the Falls and throw him over the side. Jump in headfirst, after him. Because it didn’t matter. It was all just a joke. Riddle me this, Batman. What’s the point? And the answer was: there was none. Pain pills and Scotch—that was how I’d do it, because there was just no point at all. . . .
