Man in Black

Here's a little story I never told anyone before, not even Angus McCloud, the big-ass head bartender at Think-A-Holic Lounge, who is just about the best friend any science fiction author's alter ego could ever have. Bartenders are experts at listening to other people's problems and bullshit stories but I'd never, in a million years, lay this one on ol' Angus. Still, I need to get it off my chest before I head out to the Lounge tonight for a shot or two of think-a-hol and a refreshing bubbly chaser.

Anyway, about two years ago, on a Friday night around 8pm, Eastern Standard Time, Earth Time, I attempted to head out my back door to the Lounge when I was confronted by this... this... man in black... or whatever the hell it was. His formidable figure shadowed over me against the backdrop of the breeze way wall. The bright kitchen ceiling light only made him look more terrible to me. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Unbeknownst to him, I secretly snapped his picture with my handy-dandy cell phone camera.

I thought he was one of those government assassins who off people who'd seen UFOs and blabbed about them, like I did more than once or twice on this blog. My god, I thought, a real Man in Black has come to eradicate me once and for all. But all he did was grunt a couple of words that sounded incredibly like "Mallo Cup".

Running to the candy dish I keep on the kitchen counter I returned with a Mallo Cup. Hell, I buy them by the ten-pack. But how did he know that? When I handed it to him he dropped it ceremoniously into the tiny pocket of his shabby black cardigan, tipped his hat and left.

I never saw this guy again but some weird old codger who looks a lot like him was tossed out of Think-A-Holic Lounge one night not long after this. But I put that out of my mind as I headed out to the Lounge, not wanting to be deterred. But, before I shut the door behind me, I ran back inside and grabbed two more Mallo Cups from the candy dish and slipped them into my coat pocket. You never know.