The gogfather was a huge slug-like beast that lounged in a corner of its sumptuously-furnished apartment in the tallest building of the largest city on Manhattan. The dogs were all his children, slimy lizard-like creatures, one of whom I'd met before under conditions I'd rather forget about. And I was (and still am) Fred Harmon, an itinerant guitar-picker who'd been picked up by a flying saucer and was now the musical sensation of the galaxy.