CHAPTER TWO
It is a warm December day as Goober McFly, the illegitimate son of a Cuban worm picker, walks with the aid of a cane toward a fashionable downtown Toronto hotel. The hostility of the hotel doorman, white-gloved and resplendent in a forest-green, brass-button epauleted uniform, is immediately evident. His nose, with crosshatched tiny red veins, sniffs disdainfully; his watery blue eyes grow suspicious at Goober's approach. Clearly, he does not like what he sees.