The pigeons hum an Elvis tune in the rafters of the underpass. It echoes: Are you lonesome tonight? Yes, he says. They try another: Heartbreak hotel? No, he says. Stumped, they go for a third: Let me be your teddy bear? You're covered in parasites, he points out. Feathers ruffle, then settle. You're the devil in disguise? Bingo! The devil continues, off to suck a soul or two, and more feathers ruffle, then settle. Bingo wasn't an Elvis tune. The pigeons switch to Dean Martin.