Marcel LeFarge, despite the fact that he sounds like a top-hotted villain, is one of the doctors at the Sleep Center. Every single human being loves Marcel once they are convinced Marcel LeFarge is actually his real name. Marcel is originally from New Brunswick, Canada. He was a real smart kid in school, but didn't want to do anything with his brain until his other parts started to slow down. So for about eight years he was a sailor in different parts of the world. He was in Alaska, in the Middle East, and India, among other places. When he came home he went to medical school. The women at the Sleep Center say he was a horrible doctor, but he cured all his patients by charming them into living longer. He's like a seeing-eye dog: when you see him in person you just think everything in the world is great.
So the widow Smolinsky had spoken with Marcel LeFarge for a little bit and offered him everything. He said he'd be happy to go check things out, and Rex Tugwell said he'd go too because he's kind of a scavenger. I told Rex I'd go too because maybe there would be old records for Boyce, and he said, "Yeah, and naked bird calendars for you." This is stupid. Birds are always naked, in and out of calendars. Besides, what good is an old calendar? I hate Rex.
We went out there in Rex's car and Marcel asked me if I'd seen any owls out back of the Sleep Center. He asked me to tell him something he didn't know about owls, and I told him that the Latin word for owl was "bubo." The Great-Horned Owl, Rachel's favorite bird, was therefore bubo virginianus. Rex made me say it again. Bubo virginianus. Bubo virginianus. He made me slow down. Bubo. Virgin. I. Anus. He couldn't stop laughing. He would have laughed even harder if I had told him that in Greek bubo means groin. He asked me if the Great Horned-Owl was on the Virus Buttertree family crest, sitting on the shoulder of a man selling his daughters for some magic beans while his wife poisoned a well. I told him that if he cared to know it was Rachel's favorite bird. Things got quiet and I could tell Rex was thinking about cracking a joke. He didn't though, so the house key I was holding between my knuckles got put back in my pocket.
We spent a long time at the widow Smolinksy's. I found two great old jazz albums for Boyce, but that was about all. Rex got a bowling ball and a couple chairs, along with some old h
ockey gear. 
Marcel didn't get anything until he saw the widow Smolinsky wanted him to have something, so he asked if he could have an old picture of her and her husband, and I thought the widow Smolinsky was going to tear her dress right off.On the way home Rex Tugwell put on the hockey helmet from the gear he got, and every time we'd stop at a red light he'd look to the car next to us and start licking the window. I don't know what people thought when they saw him do that. The last time he licked a window he saw he'd gotten the attention of an entire family in the car next to us. So to crank it up a notch he banged the helmet against the steering wheel. When he did that though, all the sudden earwigs started coming out of the helmet. Rex started to panic and just floored it right through the red light. Luckily there was no car in front of us or in the intersection. Marcel tried to reach over for the wheel but Rex was flailing around and screaming. I don't know how many earwigs can fit in a hockey helmet (note to self: could be the start of a great joke), but a whole bunch poured out of it. Rex, still flooring it, took both hands and tore the helmet off. The car veered to the right, jumped a curb, ran over a couple mailboxes, and then went right down into a ditch.
You'd think everything would get quiet in the ditch, but Rex was still screaming. He scrambled out of the car and then fell over. Marcel calmly got out and inspected the car, and then watched Rex roll around in the dirt. After you've been in a shipwreck in Alaska being in a ditch with a bunch of earwigs isn't a big deal.
As for me, I was holding Rex's bowling ball the whole time, and when we went into the ditch it hit against my side. I climbed out and Marcel asked if I was okay. I said I wasn't sure and pulled up my shirt to see if a rib was sticking out of my chest. None were, but when I tried to throw Rex's bowling ball into the weeds it hurt pretty bad. Rex was still rolling around and screaming. The family from the last car he licked the window for were at the top of the ditch staring. I don't really know what they were thinking, because they were clearly more frightened by us than what had happened to us. Marcel shouted up at them if they knew what the Latin name for a Great-Horned Owl was. "Tell 'em, Cyrus," he said, but the family had already got back in their car.
