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.

Stalking the Wild Think-A-Holic

After finding a sleeping old man in the alley outside of Think-A-Holic Lounge one night a couple months ago (for some background, see the Lost in Translation posting) and then finding a frog in his place a few nights after that (see the Froggy Night posting), I finally came to the conclusion that I'm being followed. Yessir, that's it. I'm being stalked by a shape-shifter or something from another world or maybe another realm.

Further proving this theory, I stumbled onto the old bum again last night (see pic), that same, weird, old codger who sleeps sitting up and with his eyes wide open. Last night, it was exactly the stroke of midnight, Betelgeuse Time, when I happened onto the aging oddball, after stumbling down the front steps. And there he was, loitering on the same bench, but under the bright streetlight this time. I was high on think-a-hol, of course.

When I spotted the crazy old coot, I didn't even hesitate to take a snapshot of him with my trusty cell-phone camera or to approach him this time or to engage him in polite conversation. I figured if he was a real shape-shifter he wouldn't be able to stand the kindness. Also, I thought I'd try speaking to him in Spanish this time, just to throw the old curmudgeon off balance. Just to see if he'd try to run another language game on me.

"Oye," I said to him as he sat there pretending to ignore me, "que pasa?"

"Sorry, buddy," the weird old jasper said in a tired, jaded voice, "I don't speak Italian."

It's Spanish, Pops, I thought to myself, not Italian. Then the old guy's image began to waver and fade. I thought about running but I held my ground, totally transfixed on the otherworldly scene before me. Then high-pitched laughter could be heard coming from his fading form just before he vanished altogether.

Naturally, I went back inside the Lounge for another shot of think-a-hol and a bubby chaser which I nursed quietly in a corner booth until last call.