A man is bothered by dreams in which he appears as a ventriloquist. “We all know what that’s a symbol for,” he thinks. He confides his concern to an old friend of his at the neighborhood bar. The friend listens intently, his gaze fixed on the floor between their stools. After hearing the man out, he raises his head and looks at the man. Then he smiles and assures him there’s nothing at all to worry about, the man is taking everything much too melodramatically. He makes a fist with his hand and taps the man on the cheek with it. He winks. Then he excuses himself and goes off unsteadily towards the John. He’s gone for a long time. Puzzled, then hurt, the man finally gets up himself and goes out to the men’s room. He sticks his head in the door and his heart stops: his friend hangs by his belt from the toilet-stall door frame. His tongue sticks out huge and purple, like an eggplant.
From that day on the man is haunted by the image of his dead friend in his dreams. Typically, that poor slob is standing in tears before a dark, looming judge. He strains helplessly to plead his case not to go to hell. But his gruesome tongue prevents him. Horrified, the man has to do the talking for him.