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The man sat in the glow of the fireplace staring out the window into the
dark. He had been like this for the past hour and thought to himself how he
would continue sitting until the constant patter of raindrops on the window
reminded him of the "basics of life" and he struggled to get up and see to
this pressing need.

As he shuffled past the tall mirror, he reflected that the person in the
mirror was beginning to achieve posture much like the shape of a question
mark. "Poor fool" he mumbled as he reached his destination just in time.

On his way back to the chair, again he looked on with disgust at the man in
the mirror who unlike himself, had let his body go. He said to no one in
particular "I need a drink!" and got up to get his raincoat and leave.
Forty-five minutes later, he managed to don his raincoat and left his
house, speaking to no one along the way.

The man's name was Chris Kinesia but the  Hispanic children who lived in
his community called him "El Dopa". Chris didn't speak Spanish but was
pretty sure that this name was one of respect. It was a fact that the
patrons of the neighborhood bar respected him for one of the bar stools had
been specially built just to suit him. To save time, he asked the
bartender, Ed Depryl, to both help him out of his rain gear in addition to
helping him strap his seatbelt on his bar stool. Ed called out to Chris
"What'll it be?". "The usual" replied Chris in a monotone whisper and then
added "Go heavy on the 25/100".

Ed replied "One Sinemet-Sling coming up!" as he tipped the prescription
bottle and watched as the yellow tablets fell into the blender. He added a
shot of prune-juice, a shot of Tabasco and a healthy shot of seltzer into
the mix.

As the blender whirred, Chris stared blankly at Ed and said "I think my
neurologist is seeing someone else". Ed by now was used to Chris'
convoluted logic and played along: "Have you seen other patient-files in
his in-basket?......Is the excitement in his voice gone as he asks you to
walk heel-to-toe down the hallway of his office?.....Do you see the faint
indentations of other patient's names on his prescription pad?".

Chris said nothing but reached out and accepted the drink Ed handed him in
the spill-proof plastic mug with his name on it. Ed pulled a pair of
handcuffs from under the bar and gently fastened one side to Chris'
trembling right hand and the other end to the mug-handle (this was Ed's
idea since the first time that Chris' wild jerks and bucking motions had
covered the other customers in the bar with the contents of his
special-order drink and sent the mug flying across the room where it
embedded itself in a woman's cheese-fries). Chris drank eagerly. As he put
the mug down, Ed noticed that Chris had  a Sinemet-moustache of yellow
pieces of medicine on his upper lip but chose not to call attention to it
and went down the bar to attend to other customers.

Chris sat waiting for the drink to take hold and thought of how his life
had slowed down and changed in content these last few years. His "dust
bunny" collection was unrivaled in his neighborhood, his growing mountain
of unopened and/or undiscovered mail lay in piles along the surface of
every  object within the vicinity of the his front door. Books he no longer
opened filled the shelves around him and his piano sat with a fine layer of
dust blanketing it..now an elusive companion in his life. He was brought
back to the present by the sound of a chipper voice, a friend from the old
neighborhood.

"Chris, what've you been up to old man? We hardly see you here anymore!".
The drink still hadn't taken effect so Chris mumbled to his old
acquaintance "Same old stuff....you see my PD has gotten..." but was cut
off by his friend who pumped his manacled hand fervently  and said "Look,
don't be a stranger!" as he ambled off to the other side of the room. Tears
formed in Chris' eyes as he realized that few people knew what to say
anymore. It wasn't his fault that his physical condition had deteriorated
to this point, he was an innocent pawn in...........

The wave ran through his body as the drink took hold. He glanced in the
mirror behind the bar at the new Chris who had "just arrived". "Ed" Chris
hollered across the bar with enthusiasm and mischief as he unbuckled
himself "why didn't you say I had a Sinemet-moustache going on, you
scoundrel, you! Let's get some music on the old jukebox...Bonnie, let's
dance!". No one could match his enthusiasm once the drink had taken over as
Chris told stories,  drank  beers and literally bounced off the walls all
the time unaware of the spectacle of the mug handcuffed to his right hand
as it hit patrons and furniture alike during his wild gyrations. He seemed
to forget why he had been so unhappy with life as the medicine worked its
magic inside him. A glance at his watch reminded him that this evening must
end soon if he was to make it home safely. His friends had other plans and
talked him into staying for one more round .

Not wanting to display his trouble getting into his raincoat, he slung it
over his shoulder and simulated a Gene Kelley-type dance move as he stepped
out into the pouring rain. Unaware that the mug dangled from his wrist, he
made his way slowly back the one and a half blocks to his apartment. There
were few lights on and the world slept as he shuffled up the stairs to his
door.

He realized that he had put his keys in his right front pocket and trying
not to think of the warm apartment and familiar bathroom on the other side
of the door, he managed to make his left-hand grab the keys. Chris tried in
vain to hold the house-keys in either hand as his wet clothes and sound of
heavy rainfall outside reminded him of the many drinks he'd had and  his
present priorities. But gravity and nature prevailed as Chris lost control
and he slumped to the floor crying softly for the changes occurring in his
life. As the tears subsided, Chris got up and struggled with the keys again
as he turned to the reader and said:

"PD isn't pretty.  Sometimes it can be funny and other times sad. There are
hopes and fears as well as joy and tears. It's what you make out of each
day that colors the picture that is your life."

And with that parting statement, he unlocked his door and shuffled inside.