By now, Smithers has wandered some distance and still trying to figure out who he is and where he has to go. He sees a billboard proclaiming "TRY ALOHA ALOE CREAM FOR ALL YOUR SKIN RASHES AND BURNS". Burns…Burns…Burns…starts echoing in Smithers head like something he should know, but can't quite grasp. Soon he passes a newspaper kiosk where the headlines proclaim "THE ISOTOPES' BILL MCCLOSKEY HITS HOMER" while another front page story reads "PAPARAZZI SUED BY JESSICA SIMPSON". Smithers stares at the last words in both headlines: Homer…Simpson…Homer…Simpson, Smithers' eyes flash from those bleary words in one story to the other. He covers his face and grimaces. There's something about those headlines…familiar, yet not really connecting. Frustrated, he continues walking. Soon he sees the cooling towers of the nuclear plant in the distance. Again he stops and stares. Feeling compelled but not knowing why, he starts towards them. In the meantime, Herkie and his new friends follow his nose. After several blocks, the terrier stops and circles with his head close to the concrete under a billboard proclaiming soothing relief from aloe cream. It's getting near lunchtime and Homer starts to whine about getting some food.
"Aw Homer," says Lenny, "Try to get along on what you scarfed down in the office!"
Just in front of them, as the dog continues to sniff the spot, some firemen are preparing to flush a hydrant. As the water gushes over the concrete, Herkie takes the opportunity to lap up some of it, but in wetting the pavement, it has washed away any reaming scents that were there. Herkie has lost his track.
Smithers by now, is also feeling woozy from his trauma and not having eaten in nearly 24 hours. He enters a small coffee shop and sits on a stool at the counter.
"What'll it be, Mac?" the counter attendant asks, then notices the large discolored bump on his customer's head. "Hey, buddy, what happened to you?"
"I wish I knew," Smithers bemoans.
"You'd better see a doc about that," the waiter suggests.
"Yeah, yeah." Smithers sighs, "But right now I just want to see a cup of hot, black coffee."
"Sure thing, mister," the counterman replies producing a mug of dark brown liquid from a large urn.
Smithers fishes in his trouser pocket for some money. Seeing he doesn't have enough for anything else, he tosses a few coins on the counter, gulps down the beverage and prepares to resume his wandering, but sways when he stands. The waiter hurries around to help him.
"I'm all right," Smithers insists, trying to shrug off the attention.
"Uh, sure," the unconvinced attendant says, "But you take care, okay?"
"Yeah," Smithers retorts and pushes out onto the street.
He walks about a block and a half further when a dark figure standing in the alley between two buildings asks for the time. Smithers stops hesitantly. Slowly he raises his wrist and peers at the wristwatch. He can barely make out where the hands are since he left his glasses back on the kitchen floor.
"Looks like 5:26 to me. Must've broken it somehow."
He looks up, but doesn't need his glasses to see a gun pointed directly at him.
"In here, quick!" the dark figure hisses gesturing in the alley and threateningly grabbing at Smithers and pulls him off the street
"Sorry, pal," says Smithers distainfully, "But I don't have much on me at the moment." He turns his back on the crook intent on resuming his journey.
"I'll be the judge of that!" the bandit snaps and prepares to pistol whip Smithers.
Smithers hears the movement and turns back towards the assailant just in time to see the handle of the gun come swinging downward. He raises his arm to deflect the blow. The two men grapple in the alley.
