My local video store, the thoroughly impressive Movie Madness on Belmont, is full of memorabilia, and not just crap third rate who gives a shit memorabilia but some really choice stuff, and they have the severed ear from Blue Velvet, displayed in one of those cubes. When I see the ear I want the ear, even though the ear is gruesome and I couldn't do much with the ear except look at it, which frankly I wouldn't do very often because of its gruesomeness. I could show people the ear. Like friends or guests, if I had friends or guests, which I don't. Maybe if people knew I had the ear they'd want to come over. Maybe a box of Sociables, some Lorna Doones. Break open a new box of Lornas and set it there on the coffee table and let the first few sort of tumble out, like dominos, which indicates that they're "there for the taking, whoever wants some dig in." But then inevitably I'd feel that it's all about the ear and not me, after all where were all these people before I possessed three ears, two of my own and one fake severed ear from Blue Velvet, all those two-eared years of crippling loneliness? Actually, better to spring the ear on them without warning, I could lure them with vague promises of a "wonderful surprise" and then produce the ear suddenly from a small paper bag, just like in the movie.

"What on earth is that?"

"That's the severed ear from Blue Velvet. David Lynch? When Jeffrey Beaumont is walking in the field he finds the ear. Kyle MacLachlan? The ear, as it turns out, was scissored off a guy's head by Frank Booth, although you don't see that. Frank Booth? Dennis Hopper. Pabst Blue Ribbon etc etc. I stole the ear out of one of those plexiglas display cubes at Movie Madness. On Belmont? Yeah I know, great place."