CHAPTER ONE

WE GOT A NEW CASE

My name is John. I used to work in the force back when I was young and naive; back then, I thought there were things worth fighting for. Protecting the innocent, putting an end to crime, even upholding law and order. All the so-called good things. You know? Luckily, if you live long enough life beats these delusions out of you, it shows you the true face of how the world works. It shows you there are no innocents; it shows you everyone has something to hide, even those kids playing outside your room window. Who knows, they may have stolen something like a dare, maybe they lied to their parents, or maybe they just left a bag of crap in front of your front door. Damn kids! There are no innocents out there; at best, there are people who didn’t get the opportunity to be guilty of something. Yes, crime is how the world works because of one simple reason; it is easier to be bad than to be good. The pay is bigger as well. Yeah, I used to be naive but since then I got my ass kicked by life so many times I turned out to be a walking bruise of harsh lessons. After I got a bit wiser, I quit my regular job and start my private dick office. I wouldn’t say I had a noble reason for doing it I just had a sick stomach. I just couldn’t digest something’s that I was supposed to digest regularly. Like being served a rotten meal every day; there is so much you can stomach before you get sick. Because of all these reasons, I tried and do something decent for a change but then I had a change of mind and after that another change; after that, I forgot what I was going to do, so I just opened my detective office. Perhaps I shouldn’t have made life deciding decisions while being so drunk that I couldn’t get up from the floor. But hey, if the whiskey is cheap and tolerable, who am I to say no?

Working as a PI turned better than expected. You see, I thought it would be extremely bad, but in truth, it was just slightly less extremely bad. The pay was low, but the work was hard, so I guess that is something to look forward to. It is immensely unrewarding, but at other times... no; it is just unrewarding. I spent most of my time looking for cheating spouses, which is just an enormous waste of time because a cheating spouse is just another name for a spouse, but shorter. Looking for stolen items, finding missing people, or helping with shady business deals here or there. Hey, don’t judge, it's a living. Everything was regular until one day a mysterious creature walked into my office. A venomous and cunning creature with such deadly poison it could paralyze your entire body, a creature with hidden sharp deadly fangs which it uses to inject the poison straight to your heart; a forked tongue that could make you believe you are floating on clouds and that these clouds aren’t wet and cold. The most dangerous of all creatures in the world... a beautiful woman. All these things wrapped in one pretty package. But then again, the package is so nice that you don’t mind being prey to it.

She walked in graciously enough to fool any man… not me. I had too much experience to know better; that or I was just too jaded with life... no, it couldn’t have been that it was the experience, the experience of being wronged so many times you forget the term righted, and not only because that term doesn’t exist.

But I digress back to the story. That is me sitting on my spiny chair wearing the brown fedora and a cheap black suit. The one with the average height, average look, and average everything smoking a cheap cigarette in case you confused me with the tall blonde, beautiful woman who just came in with her expensive red dress. Why did it have to be red?

“Is this a private detective office?” the woman asks as walking inside with the grace of a very graceful person.

“That’s what it says on the door but then again you shouldn’t believe everything you read,” John says as lighting a new cigarette.

“I’m Jane von Riyn, and I need to hire a good detective,” Jane says.

“I’ve never been called good before,” John adds.

“Are you not a good detective?” Jane asks

“I’ve never said that I wasn’t good, just that I’ve never been called good before,” John says.

“You seem very cynical,” Jane says as she sits on the table.

“Now that I’ve been called many times, and many other things that I forgot to remember half of them,” John says as he takes a half spin left and another half spin right on his spiny chair.

“If you can’t remember half the things you were called, how do you know you haven’t been called good?” Jane asks, looking mildly entertained.

“Oh! That I know,” John says as puffing smoke out and pretending to be in deep thought, just pretending.

“Maybe you should treat your customers with more courtesy,” Jane says.

“Courtesy costs extra,” John says.

“Aren’t you going to offer me anything to drink?” Jane asks.

“I was going to offer you coffee, but I ran out of the ingredients,” John says.

“So you have no coffee?” Jane says.

“That and no water, or cups,” John says.

“I can offer you a drink of this,” John says as he pulls out a dusty bottle with some liquid in it from a file cabinet; a sad excuse for a cabinet, but a cabinet never the less.

“What is that?” Jane asks as she tries very hard to determine what is in that bottle. The inspection of the bottle is unsuccessful.

“I’m not sure,” John says as he also ponders about the mysterious liquid.

“As tempting as it is, I think I will pass,” Jane says.

“Probably the wise decision. So, Jane, tell me about this man you need looking into,” John says.

“Why do you think this is about a man?” Jane asks.

“Is it not?” John asks.

“It is. I just wanted to be the one that started that conversation,” Jane adds.

“My apologies then what is this about Jane?” John asks, pretending to look interested.

“It is about a man,” Jane says in a playful, over-dramatic fashion.

“A man? I’m shocked! How was that?” John asks, feeling proud of his reaction.

“Better,” Jane answers as she lightly smiles.

“So what can I do to help you with, regarding your lover?” John asks.

“Lover? It could be my about my husband,” Jane says.

“You are not married,” John says.

“How would you know?” Jane asks.

“I noticed you have no ring on your finger when you walked in here,” John says.

“Do you always check if girls are taken?” Jane asks.

“It is usually the third thing I notice,” John says.

“What are the first two?” Jane asks as she leans closer.

“I’d rather not say, It wouldn’t be proper,” John says.

“Don’t worry John, I never pictured you as the proper type,” Jane says as she sits up from the table.

“So tell me what is the case about?” John asks.

“I want you to follow him and see if he has been cheating on me,” Jane says.

“Tell me about him,” John says.

“His name is Mark Aubrie, he has an average build, short black hair, no facial hair,” Jane says.

“Do you have a picture of him?” John asks as sighing from the obvious lack of information.

“I’m sorry to say, but no,” Jane says.

“Well, that sure doesn’t complicate things. Where can I find him?” John asks as shaking his head in a vividly disappointed manner.

“I don’t know,” Jane answers.

“Quite a relationship you have there. What does he do besides...” John asks.

“Besides?” Jane asks.

“What does he do?” John asks.

“He is an entrepreneur,” Jane answers.

“Does he visit some places occasionally?” John asks.

“I think he likes to go to the Seahorse, it is a...” Jane says as she gets interrupted.

“I am very familiar with all the bars in the city,” John says.

“Do you drink a lot, John?” Jane asks, strolling, and observing John’s office. Not much to see.

“Only daily,” John answers as he pours himself a drink and drinks it.

“Did you visit this bar before?” Jane asks.

“Possibly,” John answers.

“So how much will this cost and take?” Jane asks.

“Depends on the time required, but I would wager about 100 per day. These sorts of cases take around a week,” John says.

“I’ll give you double that, just make sure you do a good job,” Jane says as she pulls out the money from her purse.

“For that much money I will give it my undivided attention and I’m not only saying that because I have no other case,” John says.

“I’m sure you will,” Jane says.

“Besides the Seahorse does he visit any other places frequently, what is his daily routine like?” John asks.

“I don’t know, I just heard about that bar from him by accident. You see, it is a mostly physical relationship. We don’t talk about many things, we just...” Jane says as she gets cut off.

“Yes, I get the picture,” John adds.

“Do my life decisions not agree with your perception detective?” Jane asks.

“Not at all. After all, who am I to judge anyone,” John says.

“I have needs detective and I know what I want. Does the concept of an independent woman frighten you?” Jane asks.

“A concept of a woman is good enough to frighten me,” John says.

“Will, that be all?” Jane asks.

“Not quite. Where does he live?” John asks.

“I don’t know, he moves a lot,” Jane answers.

“I bet that makes him a superb dancer,” John says.

“He is a decent dancer. Any more questions?” Jane asks.

“Just one more thing. Where does he work?” John asks.

“He lost his job so as I understand it he is looking for something to do,” Jane says.

“Aren’t we all? Well, thank you for the information, if you could just leave your contact info,” John says.

“Here you go,” Jane says as she pulls out a card and hands it over to John.

“Well, until next time Jane,” John says.

“I will see you, detective,” Jane says as she walks out the door. The way she makes John drop a sweat or two.

After she left I had a powerful impression of her. Few women I meet throw a bundle of cash at me, usually, it is a drink; sometimes it is a nice drink which stains less, or at least I think it does. Perhaps I would know better if I cleaned stuff once in a while. I felt good so I wrote a file about this and put it in my file cabinet which at first I intended to use but later it turned into an alcoholic storage cabinet or sometimes a shoe cabinet. I paid good money for it so it should, at least, have many functions.

So, for the first time, I made a file called Jane von Riyn though I had little expectations that this case would be anything special. For better or for worse, I turned out to be sorely mistaken. Either way, my file cabinet had a file in it. This is what it must feel when you have a child and it grows up.

Not a sorry excuse for a file cabinet anymore, you stand there with the best of the file cabinets now, John says as nodding a nod of approval towards his newly reborn file cabinet.

“Well, it is time to work,” John says as he pulls out a shoe from the file cabinet.

“So there you were hiding. But where is the other one?” John says as he puts the shoes on.

He talks to inanimate objects, a lot, doesn’t he? Perhaps a sign of dementia, John thinks.

D-E-M-E-N-T-I-A... a funny word, John thinks as he chuckles, not realizing the irony of the entire situation. D-E-M-E-N-T-I-A!

John takes his black run-down coat from the coat hanger and as he is grabbing it he notices the other shoe underneath it he Takes it with the grace of a very gracious person. He puts it on, readying himself with wearing two shoes as one typically does; leaving his office armed with confidence and two shoes.

Walking outside of his office, John notices a lonesome night. The bright moon illuminates the streets of the city. There is little sound. The only audible sound is the cold raindrops falling on the hard streets of the city. This means there are fewer people on the streets; perfect!

I might as well start my investigation at the Seahorse bar. If by any chance I find nothing useful, there will still be cheap drinks. A win-win situation, John thinks to himself. Following the immortal words of my grandfather, the cheaper the better. But then again, listening to his advice may not be the best decision; considering he was a bit senile and a lot bit mad. He said some good things, but then again he said some terrible things.

My favorites were: always remember that I had your grandma or when you feel down compliment a cat and eat some salt. The funny thing is that for the longest time I thought that had some deeper meaning behind it until, one day, I saw him talking to a cat and eating salt. Yes, quite a bit mad.

Oh, grandfather, how I miss the days we used to play. The times you threw kitchen utensils as I had to dodge them. Good times!

Walking for some time I arrived at the Seahorse bar. It is surprising how much ground you can cover when you walk in a straight line. I haven’t visited this establishment for some time so I had forgotten what it looked like, but to my surprise; it was everything I expected and less. A Rundown little building, the classical letters missing from the sign. Oh, the joys of life. I walked in the... ARSE. Yes, the strategically missing letter could only mean one thing. Someone gave some effort to do this.

Walking inside, he is stopped by a bouncer. They can afford to hire a bouncer, but they can’t get a few letters, John wonders? The unnecessarily large man was the size of a mountain and just as smart.

“Are you a cop?” the bouncer asks, eyeing with squinting eyes.

“Would it make any difference if I was?” John asks.

“The people here don’t take kindly to cops,” the bouncer says.

“Do cops interfere with any business you have here?” John asks.

“Are you saying we do illogal stuff here,” the bouncer says.

“Illegal,” John adds.

“What?” the bouncer asks.

“Illegal is the word you are looking for,” John adds.

“Are you saying I’m stupid?” the bouncer asks, with an intimidating look, or in his case a normal look. A useful skill to have in this line of work.

“I would never call a man twice my size stupid. At least not to his face,” John says. This is true. John calls them stupid with his quiet voice. For some unknown reason, fewer incidents occur this way in contrast to insulting a person to his face. People are newer, enthusiastic about honesty.

“And no, I am not a cop. But I don’t see how asking someone that question would accomplish anything. You see, people can lie,” John says.

“Lie?” the bouncer says.

“Yes, it is a process when you tell certain information opposite of the truth,” John says.

“Are you making fun of me?” the bouncer asks.

“Of course not. I am just joining in this productive conversation we have going on here,” John says.

“I don’t like you,” the bouncer says.

“I don’t blame you. I barely like myself,” John adds.

“Mmm,” the bouncer says.

“So can I go in or do you want to know my hobbies and favorite color?” John asks.

“Go in but I’ll be watching you for anything suspisus,” the bouncer says.

“Suspicious,” John adds.

“What?” the bouncer asks.

I felt an urge to comment on his magnificent speech skills, but then I remembered that I like my spine where it is. It is a solid spine, and I intended to use it for many more days, John concludes.

“Never mind,” John adds.

If you can help it try not to antagonize anyone who can throw you like a rag doll, now that is excellent advice.

Walking inside the Seahorse was quite the unsightly sight. Cheap chairs, cheap tables, and a lot of cheap bottles of alcohol on the run-down bar. A dark and dirty little place. Surprisingly, it looks even worse on the inside compared to the outside.

It was the kind of place I was all too well familiar with. A certain sense of relief spread across me as I saw other bar patrons who look like they have it far worse than me; seeing this made me think a bit better of myself, but only a bit. I walked over and sat at the bar.

The bartender seemed to not notice me, which is quite an accomplishment since there are four people in the entire bar. If you count the passing rats, I guess that would make the number of patrons jump up to twenty.

“So can I get any drink here?” John asks.

“Do you have any money?” the bartender asks.

“Yes, it is usually customary to give money for the service of alcoholic beverages; or that rat poison you have on the counter,” John adds.

“You don’t look like you have any money,” the bartender says.

“Looks can deceive,” John says.

“Usually, they are not,” the bartender adds.

“Usually, I have no money, but today I do. Maybe that’s why the look of not having money is still stuck on me,” John adds.

“Right. So what do you want?” the bartender asks.

“Do you have anything safe to drink?” John asks.

“No,” the bartender answers.

“Then I’ll have some of that red rat poison,” John says.

“Excellent choice. It shows you are a connoisseur of fine drinking,” the bartender says.

A rat runs across the floor.

“It is kinda ironic with all the rat poison you have here that there are still rats running around,” John comments.

“This is the bar’s mascot. His name is George,” the bartender says.

“Well, seems fitting to have rats as mascots when the bar is called Sea Horse. But then again you might try to use a little of that rat poison on them,” John says.

“I don’t appreciate you calling my drinks rat poison,” the bartender says.

“They have a picture of a skull on them,” John adds.

“It’s just for show,” the bartender adds.

“And what is that one last there? That is rat poison,” John says as he points to a bottle.

“Oh! You are right. It must have gotten here by accident. How embarrassing I hope this minor incident will not ruin the reputation of my fine establishment for you,” the bartender says.

“Sadly, this does not change my view on this... fine establishment,” John adds as he takes a deep breath.

“Mmm,” the bartender exhales.

“You don’t seem to be thrilled serving people drinks,” John says.

“I hate it more than anything,” the bartender says.

“This may be just a wild thrilled, but perhaps the occupation of a bartender wasn’t the best suited for you,” John says.

“Well, I wanted to be a doctor,” the bartender says.

“That didn’t work out, I presume,” John says.

“What gave it away?” the bartender asks sarcastically.

“So Mr. Bartender, you have a name?” John asks.

“Yes,” the bartender responds.

“And it is?” John asks.

“Bartender,” the bartender says.

“Your name is Bartender?” John asks.

“For all intents and purposes, yes,” the bartender says.

“Okay bartender Bartender. I understand that a certain Mark Aubrie is a regular here,” John says.

“You can’t expect me to remember everyone who comes here,” the bartender says.

“You have a drunk guy sleeping on the bar, two other customers who seem like some French poet revolutionaries and me. I assume you don’t get that many customers and considering this guy is a regular, I’m sure you know him,” John says.

“I may know him or may not know him,” the bartender says.

“Look, I’m not a cop or hired muscle,” John adds.

“Yeah, I figured out you aren’t muscle and you seem to dirty even for a cop... you know dirty-dirty, your clothes,” the bartender says as he gets cut off.

“I understand the reference and thank you for your insight, but as I was saying I’m just here looking for some information on the guy,” John says.

“So if you could take some time out of your busy schedule and give me some information, I would think not so little of you,” John continues.

“I don’t like the way you implied I do nothing,” the bartender says.

“I, literally, had to beg you to give me a drink,” John adds.

“You got it, didn’t you?” the bartender says.

“Yeah, I got it but you didn’t even bother to clean the glass,” John says.

“Don’t worry about that. My rat poison kills all bacteria,” the bartender says.

“I thought you said it wasn’t rat poison?” John asks.

“Well, theoretically...” the bartender says as he gets cut off.

“Don’t. I don’t want to know,” John says.

“So do you know him?” John continues to ask.

“Can’t say,” the bartender responds.

I realized this conversation was going nowhere fast, so I had only one option left. I had to unleash something that I was afraid to use, something strong enough to break even the hardest of men. I had to rant about my life, my dreams. Only this was strong enough to break this unwavering double bartender.

You should skip this following rant in the following, or you shall be scarred for life. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

“Did I ever tell you about my dreams?” John asks.

“What? Why would I care about your dreams,” the bartender asks.

“I had this one dream when I was a shoe and everyone around me was a neck-tie, for some reason. As I was a shoe, I went swimming in the river, but in this dream, I couldn’t swim. So I just drowned in the black river. Perhaps the black river represented all my life regrets, like that time when I forgot to buy a present for one of my ex-girlfriends who’s name is Marry. She was quite a reasonable girl who liked horses. Well, that is a funny coincidence since her father had a stable and she talked about how she rode those horses from day to night. She once showed me. I never knew before that horses could jump so high...” John rants.

“Please stop,” the bartender says.

“But back to me being a shoe. So I sank into the river who, again, maybe represented my failures in life. Deep inside this river, I saw a crab that had a fedora hat. This crab-walked to me and asked me did I remember to buy groceries. I thought it was strange. Why would a crab ask a shoe if it has bought groceries?” John rants.

“Please...” the bartender says, visibly bored.

“But then something strange happened as this crab turned into a porcupine. Yes, I know what you are thinking, a porcupine in the river asking me if I bought groceries, how strange and interesting. But then I realized that I forgot to buy groceries. Imagine that a shape-shifting crab that turned into a porcupine under the river helped me discover a critical mistake in my daily life,” John rants.

“I don’t want to listen to this...” the bartender adds, grabbing his head in frustration.

“But then I woke up and went to the store to buy groceries. What a great Monday that was. But if you thought that was interesting, let me tell you about my Tuesday. Now that Tuesday I dreamed of something far more interesting and much, much longer,” John continues to rant.

You can continue reading at this point.

“STOP!” the bartender yells, mentally beaten.

“Why stop? There are many more interesting dreams I have left,” John adds.

“Look if I tell you what I know do you promise never to talk to me again?” the bartender asks.

“I can promise you anything you want,” John says.

“Oh God,” the bartender says.

“So do you know him?” John asks.

“Yes, I do. As you’ve said he is a regular,” the bartender says.

“It is amazing that you remember a single person out of all the people that come here. Amazing,” John says.

“Hilarious. Anyway, as I was saying, he comes here regularly,” the bartender says.

“Does he come alone, does he talk to anyone, did he say anything about himself when he was here?” John asks.

“I don’t know. I rarely care,” the bartender says.

“You know I forgot to mention this one dream about an octopus and a cat burglar,” John says.

“Oh my God, please don’t. Look, he comes to listen to Rebecca. Sometimes they come for a drink,” the bartender says.

“Is he in a relationship with this Rebecca?” John asks.

“No,” the bartender says as he laughs.

“How can you be so sure?” John asks.

“No self-respecting man would have a drink here with their love interest here,” the bartender says.

“Why not? There is a certain cozy atmosphere going on here,” John says.

“Are you kidding me? We have rats,” the bartender says.

“I thought they were the bars mascots,” John says.

“You should stop being a detective and try stand-up comedy, wise guy,” the bartender adds.

“I tried it once, well at least that was how one ex described a relationship with me,” John says.

“Look Rebecca is a girl that sings here. Well now, when I told you everything you want, please leave and don’t come back,” the bartender says.

“You know, with so little customers one would assume you wouldn’t want to push anyone away,” John says.

“Yeah, well for you I will make an exception,” the bartender adds.

“Will this Rebecca be singing tonight?” John asks.

“Yes, now stop talking to me,” the bartender says.

“Well, I’ll be seeing you,” John says.

“What? Wait, you promised you won’t come back here,” the bartender says.

“I’ve said I could promise you anything, not that I would keep those promises,” John says.

“My God! I hate my life,” the bartender says as he shakes his head.

With nothing else to do, I took a chair and sip this sorry excuse for alcohol as I was waiting. I’ve tried to reflect on my life but that seemed too tedious so I just waited in complete silence. There was going to be a show in this bar, for all the lucky bar patrons that you can count on the fingers of your hands. Hell, you could count the baron patrons if you were in a nasty accident and lost four fingers. There were six people here if you count the staff. If not, you could do with just four fingers. I know what you are thinking; John, why are you talking about fingers and numbers, you could just say how many people are here. The simple reason is that I am bored and have nothing to do while I wait for the show. But luckily for all of us, the show is just about to start so there will be no more finger talk... for now.

On the stage, or at least what they call a stage, a woman appears. A brunette, not too tall, not too short, with a certain home look to her and a kind of gentle warmth. For the death of me, I couldn’t figure out why a girl like that would sing here. She must be a terrible singer with high aspirations. That could be the only explanation. A piece of soft bluesy music in the background as Rebecca sings.

One day we will meet

One day we will kiss

While our hearts play a beat

This love we won’t miss

I will feel it in my soul

I will see it in your gaze

This heart that you stole

Will light the universe ablaze

While our eyes may be blind

Our hearts can hear the sound

There is hope in my mind

So I shall sing it out loud

I will wait for you

As you wait for me

So don’t you leave me blue

While I walk in the dark

To my surprise, her voice was heavenly. It sounded like a warm wind that caressed your body while putting you gently to bed after you had one too many. I rarely like music as it is mostly noise, but this noise I could stand for a bit. Perhaps it was her singing or this cheap booze, but I didn’t mind it, I didn’t mind it one bit at all. She continued to sing a couple of songs as even the sleeping drunkard on the table looked up with puppy eyes at her. But like all good things, it ended. She sat down on one of the empty tables as she lights up a thin cigarette.

“That was some nice singing,” John says as he walks over to her.

“Thank you,” Rebecca says as she shows a faint almost unnoticeable smile.

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” John asks as he sits down.

“Depends. Are you trying to pick me up?” Rebecca asks.

“If I was I would have worn my good coat,” John adds.

“What’s wrong with this one?” Rebecca asks.

“Well, my good coat is less dirty,” John says.

“It doesn’t seem dirty to me,” Rebecca says.

“That is why I wear black. It hides the stains. It is like people, you rarely see the dirt inside, but it is always there,” John says.

“So what did you want to ask?” Rebecca asks.

“Do you know a certain Mark Aubrie?” John asks.

“I should, he is my brother. Why do you want to know about him?” Rebecca asks.

“I need to find him,” John says.

“What will you do if you find him?” Rebecca asks.

“I just want to talk to him,” John says.

“You are a terrible liar. Mister?” Rebecca says.

“John,” John says.

“Mr. John,” Rebecca says.

“Just John will do. Mister sounds so formal,” John says.

“John, then. I am Rebecca Aubrie,” Rebecca says.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Aubrie,” John says.

“Just Rebecca,” Rebecca says.

“Just Rebecca it is. So just Rebecca, I assure you it is nothing bad, I just want to find him,” John says.

“Well, I can’t help you. Mark is like a circus. He stays all over so not even I know where he is,” Rebecca says.

“Oh, I almost forgot to offer you a drink,” John says.

“I can’t drink anything here, I don’t have the stomach for it,” Rebecca says

“It seems I just found out that neither do I,” John says as he shows a painful expression on his face while taking a sip of his drink. He follows with another one.

Rebecca takes out another cigarette, she tries to light it up but her lighter won’t start.

John leans closer as he lights her cigarette and takes one for himself.

“Thank you,” Rebecca says.

“Don’t mention it but do mention if you know where he stayed last,” John says.

“I think it was at the motel,” Rebecca says.

“Which one?” John asks.

“The name of the motel is Motel,” Rebecca says.

“Bartender Bartender and motel Motel, it is like people have given up,” John says as he sighs.

Yes, the irony on me commenting about people giving up is not lost on me so you can just keep your judgment to yourself, John says breaking the fourth wall. Don’t think I don’t hear you there reading and judging.

“Does he have any friends he hangs out with?” John asks.

“I wouldn’t know,” Rebecca says.

“Do you have any?” John asks.

“What does this have to do with your case?” Rebecca asks.

“How do you know I’m on a case?” John asks.

“The clothes you are wearing couldn’t scream private detective anymore if they had a huge sticker on them that says I am a private detective,” Rebecca says.

“I will give you that but no I just found myself strangely curious about you suddenly,” John says.

“Maybe I would find myself more curious if you wore your good coat,” Rebecca says as she smiles.

“From now on I shall only wear my good coat,” John says.

“Good to know. Well, if you’ll excuse me it’s getting late and I need to be going,” Rebecca says as she stands up and walks away.

“It was a pleasure to meet you just Rebecca,” John says.

John sits as he watches Rebecca walk away; she turns and looks once with a look good enough to melt a small ice cube, maybe even a large ice cube. Oh, how it would melt.

This was one of the better sights I have seen in my life, but I knew she was keeping something from me, I knew she was lying. How do I know this? What evidence do I have based on this conversation, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you. She is lying because she is a beautiful woman and beautiful women always lie.

I headed back, but not before buying one of those bottles for myself. Yes, I know I’ve said it is disturbingly similar to rat poison and that my stomach started having pains, but it grew on me. The bartender seemed relieved when I left. The bouncer kept staring at me. This was inhospitable even for this city’s standard. But, then again, I have a terrible impact on people.

I went to a small lonely bench where I could drink this bottle in peace and watch the ducks and swans as they swim majestically in the river. Well, there were no ducks or swans, but if you try hard enough and/or drink hard enough, you can mistake the floating pieces of garbage for one of these majestic animals.

“Hello there piece of garbage. Can you go quack-quack,” John says, talking to a floating miscellaneous piece of trash; sadly, not the first time he has done this. Most likely not the last one.

It rained, and I went back home. I rarely like the rain, but I guess it can work as a free cleaning service once in a while. The way home was, as always, lonely and dark. The dim lights on the street lamps, the dark, the cold, the rain, it all was something.

I felt the drink kick in as the streets danced. Don’t you just hate it when you are minding your own business and the world spins?

They went left and right, right and left, they just wouldn’t stop. So I decided on the age-old wisdom; if you can’t beat em, join them. I went left and right, and right and left. My vision turned blacker and blacker until it all went dark.