colors
$primary
$primary-d1
$secondary
$secondary-d1
$secondary-d2
$secondary-d3
$tertiary
$quaternary
$quaternary-l1
$quinary
$quinary-l1
$quinary-l2
$quinary-d2
$senary
$senary-d1
$senary-d2
$senary-d3
$septenary
$septenary-d1
$septenary-d2
$octonary
$octonary-l1
$octonary-l2
$red
$yellow
$green
$black
$gray-d2
$gray-d1
$gray-l1
$gray-l2
$white
$font-color
$font-color-l1
$font-color-l2
theme fonts
They sit side by side, forearms on knees, in a nondescript waiting area. Walter bounces the fingertips of one hand off those of the other. They sit. They wait.
A tall thin man in a conservative black suit enters. He eyes the Dude's bowling attire and sunglasses and Walter's army surplus, but doesn't make an issue of it. He nods through a door. Another man in a black suit enters to carefully deposit a large silver urn on the desktop.
He is vaguely handing a large leather folder across the desk to whomever wants to take it.
He takes it, opens it, puts on reading glasses that sit halfway down his nose, and inspects the bill with his head pulled back for focus and cocked for concentration. Silence. The Dude smiles at Donnelly. Donnelly gives back a mortician's smile. At length Walter holds the bill towards Donnelly, pointing.
It is late, the supermarket all but deserted. We are tracking in on a fortyish man in Bermuda shorts and sunglasses at the dairy case. He is the Dude. His rumpled look and relaxed manner suggest a man in whom casualness runs deep.
He is feeling quarts of milk for coldness and examining their expiration dates. The Dude glances furtively about and then opens a quart of milk. He sticks his nose in the spout and sniffs.
The Dude is a small figure walking across the vast lot. Next to him walks a Mexican carry-out boy in a red apron and cap carrying a small brown bag holding the quart of milk. The two men's footsteps echo in the still of the night.
The Dude is going up the walkway of a small Venice bungalow court. He holds the paper sack in one hand and a small leatherette satchel in the other. He awkwardly hugs the grocery bag against his chest as he turns a key in his door.
The Dude enters and flicks on a light.
His head is grabbed from behind and tucked into an armpit. The Dude is propelled across the bedroom and on into a small bathroom, the satchel once again taking away a piece of doorframe. His head is plunged into the toilet. The paper bag hugged to his chest explodes milk as it hits the toilet rim and the satchel pulverizes tile as it crashes to the floor. The Dude blows bubbles.