Where Felix and his goons left me that November day, and the following disaster that occurred, will have to wait for another day. This story struck me as needing written first, and since it is my history, I get to tell in the order that I pick.
As I walked into Sully's one fine night, and by fine I mean it was just a day that I was on the right side of the dirt, Sully gave me the arched eyebrow that meant that the idea of "fine" was about to take a turn for the worse (as most turns in my like are wont to do). I sighed, and considered exiting stage left, and going home to write a long overdue letter to my mother, but decided that would probably not be received any better than what I was about to "receive" either, and since writing isn't my strong suit, I decided to brave it out, and hope for the best. Silly me.
I walked to my normal booth and was not surprised to see some gangly, bright eyed, fellow already sipping on one of Sully's finest pints of piss. "Careful with that stuff lad, it will put hair on your chest, and by the looks of you it would be the first." He glanced up surprised by my sudden appearance, cleared his throat, and stammered "s.s.she told me you'd be here." I rolled my eyes, sat down, gave Sully the bring me pints till I pass out wave, and replied "well son, you see that there "she" is what us intellectual types call an unattached pronoun. I know a lot of "shes" and many of them know where to find me at given moment of my day. Though most of them only know it so they can avoid those places like the plague. So you're going to have to be a little more precise when you tell me "she told me you'd be here." Are we talking about the tall one, the short one, the left handed one, the mean one, the one who treats me like shit, or any number of other exotically nicknamed bitches who keep sending me fools like you to terrorize me in my dotage."
He opened his mouth to reply, but I put up a forestalling hand. "Never mind lad, whichever "she" sent you isn't really important to me anymore. I've long since stopped spinning different tales for different "shes" one set of lies is enough to keep track of. So why don't you just tell me which lie "she" wants to hear tonight, and I decide if I'm in the mood to spin it for her or not." He narrowed his eyes at me and said "she said for me to figure out which large R you were tonight, and gave me two envelopes to pick from depending on your answer." I sighed "of course she did. Well lad since I am, sadly, stone cold sober I figure you'll want to open the one marked "Rationalist" and start from there. Did she also tell you to wait around for me to get a few pints in me and then open the other one, and to compare the answers?" He nodded his assent to my statement, took the one marked "Rationalist" and started to read silently to himself, trying my patience even further.
"Damnit boy don't just read it to your fool self. Aren't there questions or some such bullshit written on there that your "she" wants answered, or is it a love poem that you're steeling yourself up to recite to me afraid that it will sound as gay as Christmas to read out loud. Which in case you're wondering nothing sounds gay in this place. We love all kinds here lad." His eyes widened at my comment, and he slowly said "it says to give you these" and he pushed a set of several photographs across the table towards me. I picked them up, they weren't the best quality. A bit grainy, and shot from a (safe) distance, and black and white, but the gist of them was immediately clear. I arched an eyebrow at him, more to hide my feelings than any real reason. It seemed to work because he snow plowed his way past the look in my eyes, and read from his script "not exactly sorry to show you these GI, but I figured you needed to know. Even though with your suspicious mind, I figure you had a good guess." Here he stopped and looked up at me with a questioning look. "I don't have an answer for either you or her lad, so stop giving me the dramatic pauses and finish her little love letter then get the fuck out of my sight."
He nodded then swallowed hard, and continued his recitation of the tear down job "she" had planned for me. Seems that my earlier idea of a "fine" day had fallen to shit. "There isn't much else here, it just says that you know what those mean." He pointed at the photos that were still in my hands. "and that you know where to find everyone you need to find in case you want to do something about it." I nodded well lad, you've narrowed some things down for me, but you've also caused me considerable consternation, so I'd suggest you get the hell out of here while you still are able to move all your limbs of their own accord." He blinked, and if it is possible to blink loudly, that is how he blinked. He stood up quickly, and pushed the other letter towards me "She told me to read both to you, but I think I'll take your advice, and find myself a safer drinking companion." He walked out without looking back, and left me to brood in silence, which is best for brooding.
I wasn't about to tell him that even though the photos did tell me which "she" didn't send him, I was still mostly in the dark about which "she" did. Most "shes" don't publish their bile and/or dislike for me, it allows them to have plausible deniability when asked if they know me or not. Generally, they avoid me like I have leprosy, and that is mostly the best plan. A couple of them like to communicate with me when they have something particularly mean that they want to tell me, but those are not everyday occasions. This little photo montage was one of those particularly mean things, and I was beginning to regret not asking the fool lad which "she" it was that sent him to ruin my day, my week, and maybe even my month. Or maybe that was "her" plan all along. She knows me well enough to know that I don't have a high tolerance for fools, and so she sent a fool (or one that seemed to be) to me, knowing I wouldn't listen to more than 4 words he had to say. The photos did tell me something that I already pretty much knew, but they also provided me with new information. Information is a dangerous thing in the wrong hands, and I was decidedly the wrong hands for this information.
I sighed, and signaled to Sully to bring me the tab, this was a job for the sober me to undertake, and that made me a bit put out, I had planned to get happily drunk. Those plans were now scuppered. I left twice as much money as needed to cover my tab, rose slowly from the booth, and said aloud to myself "well, I guess I need to add a name to my list of enemies, and I guess I need to go see that smug bastard Felix." With that I left Sully's and began to make my way across town....
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