The ambulance doors closed and Jimmy was gripped by a fear that the Dog wouldn't be able to find out where they were taking him. But as the ambulance pulled away he saw the Dog running to keep up. It would take a lot more than a speeding ambulance to lose the Dog, Jimmy knew, beginning to laugh. From flat on his back he watched the huge dice, the artificial lava shoots, a mock sea battle, enormous statues of Easter Island, and neon outlines of busty women flash by. Through the rear window he saw the Dog galloping behind--faster and harder than he had run to kill it. He wished he could get up and moon the Dog as a joke. The Dog would be so burned to see someone steal one of its 'genius' insults that an eruption of laughter made Jimmy spit up, his bare buttocks flattened against the window glass--a pressed-ham moon--what a name! What names and what things--an infinite slide-whistle. At least for a while, he decided, he'd refuse to talk to the Dog. Silence is Golden, he'd repeat to it over and over in all volumes, in all pitches, dripping with irony and completely dead pan. He'd make it stay in the room while he went on auditions--he'd make it address him as the 'Lord of Lafs,' sit up like a regular dog and beg to be told a joke. An image of this last idea made Jimmy scream--as piercingly as the siren of the ambulance. When he saw a paramedic turn to look at him--at Jimmy Diamond!--he shrieked in competition with the siren till even he, the Lord of Lafs, couldn't tell which was which.