a photo realistic view from the end of pigs alley on chicken hill, outside a beaten up old shack with a door sign that reads, "fatty's jook". Caution. Fun inside, the proprietor stands on the front porch, his face a reflection of anything but fun. His gaze falls upon a pile of firewood near the porch stairs. The pile, nearly three feet high, is a tangle of broken chairs, discarded wood, and tree branches used to heat the joint's woodstove. Fatty, cladd in a flannel shirt, a gray vest, worn trousers, and a porkpie hat, walks down to the pile.