[JASON WROTE] Like Popeye with his spinach, the replacement glass of wine revitalized Jbird. By this time both the dog and Chelsea, the Orangutan, were hiding in the stairwell; they seemed to be frightened by the strange patterns our guest was creating on the floor with his blood.

When Mr. Puffington arrived, Jbird seemed to calm down. To be honest, I was never sure if he was frightened by the gentlemen we all referred to as Puffy the Claw or if Mr. Puffington represented some intellectual curiosity for the Birdman. In any event, Mr. Puffington stomped around our bloody floors with little attention to the state of affairs. As was generally the case with Mr. Puffington, he began preaching the virtues of the raw-food movement and the general problem of accumulated toxins in the typical American's endochrin system.

Now I'd always suspected that Chelsea had some instinctive animosity towards Mr. Puffington but I'd have expected her to be more even-keeled. Quite to the contrary, she began screeching and throwing bits of Jbird's wineglass -- Jbird had ceased his feckless attempts to clean the glass when Mr. Puffington began speaking of the benefits to the liver from eating raw foods -- at Mr. Puffington and myself. Fortunately no-one was injured but Mr. Puffington took his leave quite quickly and in an obvious state of frustration and with what I was surprised to discover later was a deeply wounded sense of self worth.