Sweeny wakes up in the morning with the hangover of proletarian rum. Sweeny is hilariously Priapus erect and flows like a fountain. Sweeny looks at the walls for luck—shapes, figures and signs. The wall is littered with many Picassos. Sweeny’s wife, a sexless beast is kneeling down in prayer, praying to her husband Christ. Sweeny puts on the computer and goes to the down loaded e-book Sartre’s being and nothingness and tries to digest a few pages. Consciousness for Sartre is a conundrumatic object reified into perspectives of being. Sweeny logs into Face book; there Sweeny has many virtual friends totally unknown to him. Sweeny has tried wooing many women and all have ended up in the quicksand of failure. Sweeny is in angst as he has not been able to develop any intimate friendships. For Sweeny the women of Kerala are a strange bundle. It’s very difficult to woo them. Sweeny opens Gmail—t here’s no reply to the thousands of job applications he has sent. For Sweeny the stars are bad luck, a dirty rainbow. Sweeny lives in a joint-family. Sweeny’s purse carries enough money for the day, enough for cigarettes and coffee. Sweeny has a boil growing in his groin. Sweeny’s groin is boil- friendly. Sweeny whistles to the black pug candy. There it comes, and it rubs its body against Sweeny’s legs and Sweeny is fondling it. Sweeny is now on the scooter and rides to Kozhencherry, to buy his customary brand of Wills cigarettes. The ride on the bridge is scenic. One side of the river has vegetation growing over it. Sweeny watches a woman bathing. She is buxom and colored like coffee berries. Sweeny’s loins become tempted with erotic lust. The morning breeze spills over Sweeny as fragrant musk. Sweeny enters the restaurant and orders two cups of coffee. The coffee is hot and Sweeny pours into a glass to cool it. Now Sweeny is back home and takes his books to teach English in a school nearby. Sweeny loved teaching O Henry’s Last Leaf. Evening three, the school bell rings and Sweeny is on the internet to read mails but it’s always the same. There are no human mails. Then Sweeny logs into the lottery site. Luck has been a Proteus for Sweeny. Sweeny always anticipates that the first prize for a lottery will shine on him. Sweeny is longing to retire and settle down and devote his life to travel to places and write.