––Stanley, said the nurse. The screaming stopped. ––What did I tell you about the screaming, she said. Stanley began screaming, something about how he wasn't supposed to scream. ––That's right, she said. ––And when you want to scream, you sit down in your chair and think about your favorite color. Just like I taught you. Now. Stanley. What's your favorite color, Stanley, she said. Stanley was either catching his breath or beginning to cry. ––Stanley, tell everybody your favorite color. He let go the kid's shirt, and he walked around the room in long curious steps, as if considering his answer and simultaneously trying to dislodge his underwear. He walked by the man, right over him, still fidgeting and still on the floor, thankful Stanley's performance had upstaged his own, and when Stanley stepped over him he saw Stanley's feet through his boots sockless and the sole coming off the fronts and a gnarled big toe nail. After Stanley passed the man worked his way back into his seat and put his left hand over his mouth and his head down penitent. He was out of breath and his chest beat without rhythm and he was that bad mix of sweaty and cold. Stanley made one more lap then sat to the right of the man, sitting down without warning, almost snapping down on the man's right arm, and now was mumbling to himself. ––Stanley, I didn't hear you, she said. ––What did you say your favorite color is, Stanley.

––Purple, he said.
––Very good, now
––Purple like a dolphin.
––That's, that's very good. Think of that dolphin, Stanley. Think about it floating around in the ocean. And very soon I'll come get you when it's time to come inside my room.

She waited for some sort of confirmation from Stanley, a head nod or anything, but turned away without it. When she left Stanley got up and paced again and spoke again addressing no one in particular: ––Think of that dolphin Stanley think of that dolphin Stanley think of that dolphin Stanley think of that––

The TV had not been turned down since the end of the screaming, and with no competition it became the room's focal point. Krusty was yelling at his personal assistant, something about wanting a danish. The personal assistant said all the danishes were gone. ––They're not gone, Krusty said. ––You're gone! Stanley remained in mantra. Think of that dolphin Stanley think of that dolphin Stanley think. No word received more emphasis; Stanley changed his intonation nada. That dolphin Stanley. Think of that dolphin Stanley.

––I AM NOT A DOLPHIN, Stanley screamed. ––I AM NOT A DOLPHIN STANLEY. The man and most the others, they snapped back, braced their cold armrests for the crash, and the less nauseous of them tried to pretend they never jumped back and braced, and the man regretted being too nauseous to count himself among the pretenders. Stanley went back to whispering, than shouting, then whispering again. The sick thing, the really sick and completely unhelpful thing that occurred to the man, with his mouth covered shut now and that scream bee-buzzing inside, the sick thing that occurred to him was: Maybe all of this would stop, sphinx's riddle-like, if only the man could figure out a word to rhyme with dolphin. That was it. If you're a dolphin, then you're. What. It wasn't coming. All of Stanley's mental and physical energies conspired to prove him before the room, without a doubt, not a dolphin Stanley. He screamed more and frothed and gesticulated, and the baby in the woman's arms did what everyone else wanted to do, it screamed back and cried and batted its arms around and WHAT ARE YOU SCREAMING ABOUT Stanley said I'M NOT DOLPHIN STANLEY he said YOU'RE A DOLPHIN

Coughing--the man was coughing. Stanley turned back to the man. He covered his mouth but couldn't stifle it. Stanley became quiet. ––You're a dolphin Stanley, Stanley said to him. Stanley bent down and moved closer and breathed and sputtered, and there could be no wipe, no movement, for to move would be to not be invisible, and to not be invisible would be–– The right of the man's face grew sick and wet from Stanley’s condensed saliva. The coughing, his stomach now too, that upwelling of sharp jolts and empty cold. The man cut his legs into the bench's cold metal. To the man, to the man alone and that much was clear, Stanley reiterated that he, the man, not Stanley, was a dolphin Stanley. The tightening in the abdomen, front to back, the shooting pains down the sciatic DOLPHIN STANLEY a commercial for Kentucky Fried Chicken what awful whiskey Stanley drank That's the Way Uh-Huh Uh-Huh I Like It and then the man felt his neck snap back and his hands leave his mouth and he felt Stanley's crooked nose on his one hand and Stanley's fat lip on the other, the fat thing dripping who knows what everywhere and he felt his stomach hit its spin cycle and Stanley's right fist hit his jaw and his left hit his left eye and the rent-a-cop screaming to stop punching Stanley you maniac stop punching Stanley and the receptionist saying he's a sick man he's a sick man how could you do that to a sick man like Stanley and the man felt the floor again and the green lights above and a knee not his own and there was Krusty talking, ––All you gotta do is say, 'I am waiting for a bus,' and a different knee now and there was Krusty saying ––Then I hit you with pies for five minutes.