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Meanwhile Animal was peaking, no squinting at a headline of the Wall Street Journel. The faces of the Monica Hotel Bar had now reached there distilling point. It was toward the late of the afternoon. The males at the bar were like one none defieating flesh who peed, all and only, a dark yellow. "The cost of living index," Animal said to no one, not even himself inparticular, with his mouth and voice cracked. "What's that?" was a question from a heavy man, who really wanted to peer around, but was afraid too. Give every man a chance to see what people think. Said Animal, "one thing about Sam Yordy is that he crosses every bridge he can think of before he comes to one." "There were men in the bar that were pleased that Animal was reading the Wall Street Journel, and in Los Angeles at that... Retained Animal, "the cost of living index is the soul of man's protection from himself, but the L.A. times sports section is not quite another, is just quite.