you are harold bloom. you are taking advantage of a midsemester break at yale to spend a restful week in maine. after a grueling morning tour of a lighthouse, you stopped in at a quaint newport diner for a few pots of chowder. now, in the grips of dyspepsia, you wander seeking a pharmacy that carries pepto-bismol. a call from an arrant lobster-man startles you and you topple into a tidal pool. the only person within earshot happens to be stephen king. your options are to summon the vile peddler of penny dreadfuls, or cut off your own butt. WHAT DO YOU DO