on still , other nights c mercifully few of them c he would rave like ahab during the last days of the pequod , shambling and stumbling through the house with the whiskey bottle held in a hand that was not really a hand anymore , shouting that it was skin cancer , did she hear him , it was fucking skin cancer and he had gotten it from the fucking uv lamp , and he was going to sue the dirty quacks that had done this to him , sue them right down to the motherfucking ground , litigate the bastards until they did n't have so much as a shit-stained pair of skivvies to stand up in .