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Johnny becomes a tree for the dog belonging to the one-eyed doorman as he begins his search for his lost father
I WAS at the entrance to Gothic Hospital, right? Well, even while I was standing there, I couldn't help feeling that I was being watched. Like someone was looking down at me. I thought that it might be my father, and I looked around, hoping, but then the doors groaned open -- just a little -- and a lamp appeared, gripped in thick, hairy fingers -- not my father's, that's for sure.
I couldn't see a face because of the glare, but a male voice growled: "What?"
I wasn't sure what to say, so I told the truth. "I'm looking for my father," I said. I heard a laugh, then the voice said: "How many times have I heard that line? An orphan, eh? Come on, get in here . . ."
Before I could protest, I was grabbed by the scruff of the neck and hauled inside. A dog sniffed around my shoes. A horrible thing, it was. Black and mangy.
"Get, Gympee," the voice bawled, but it was too late. The brute had lifted its leg.
"He pees on everyone, he does," the man said. He didn't look much better than the dog. He was big and fat -- about 60, I guess -- shabbily dressed in baggy work trousers and a thick flannel shirt. He had a huge bunch of keys on his belt.
His...