To understand this part, and the parts to come, you might want to back track and re-read alittle.
Mr. Bombompsky always wore purple Indian slippers to not match with his black suit coat with yellow hexagonal shaped buttons. He had three pairs of black socks and three pairs of brown socks, which he mixed to make 6 pairs of brown/black socks. His socks always were a little big, because he needed to fit his money in them.
“Mr. Bompomsky, your eel-avocado roll is here.”
Mr. Bombompsky blinked. He was at the Sushi-Ishus, the Japanese restaurant he went to every Tuesday.
“Thank you, Saki Motto.” Saki Motto was Mr. Bombompsky’s favorite waiter, and he made sure he was his waiter each and every time he went to the restaurant.
He sat at the table and bit in to the eel. The fish was brought to the restaurant every Monday night, and Mr. Bombompsky always came on Tuesday for lunch for the fresh fish.
He tapped his #2 pencil on the table. Before he had become a writer, he was a famous Ukrainian drummer, and he loved to make a beat out of anything.
He came to the Sushi-Ishus on Tuesday weekly also because Tuesday was his thinking day. And of course, eating eel-avocado rolls made his novels even better.
Eating eel-avocado rolls increased his imagination. Mr. Bombompsky looked down at his purple satin slippers, wondering if Lee Cot should go forward in his journey or not, or if the story should go back and focus on Emil, who through his illness was writing about Cot. As he contemplated that, he knew that he needed to make his book a quadruple Nobel Prize winner.
He ate another roll. He ate more and more eel, until his imagination had overtaken him.