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Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Late night caffeinated mystery theater: the conclusion

So like most mysteries, this one had a simple yet pleasant outcome. As the 49 bus neared my final destination, I texted: "I'll be there in less than 10 minutes." My mystery texter immediately replied. "I'm here. c u."

c u.

[warning: tense shift ahead]

So I get off the bus on 24th Street and walk the short block to Muddys. The cafe is brightly lit, intentionally grungy, and filled with an assortment of characters. As I head for the counter, a guy catches my eye. He is pale, with very long, dark black hair that is partially dreaded. His beard is also long, bisected, and a couple beads are strung there. But it is his face--gaunt, white, and covered with black, tribal-looking tattoos--that snags my eye. He is a beautiful unfortunate.

So, trying not to stare, I attempt to return my gaze to the counter when a guy at the next table waves.

What is he doing here, I wonder, as I wave back and turn to order.

Doh! I turn back, wave lamely again, and shout out, "Can I get you anything?"

The mystery texter: a friend from my own neighborhood. I haven't run into him in a while because he'd moved to The Sunset, the neighborhood across the park from mine, so our paths no longer cross.

Mystery solved, soy latte in hand, I proceeded to his table and enjoyed the evening.

Sometimes, being lame isn't necessarily a bad thing.

About Me

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This is me and one of my two cats. His name is Cougar, and he’s an F1 Chausie. A chausie is a new breed of cat under development. Chausies are the result of a cross between a domestic cat (in Cougar’s case, a Bengal) and a jungle cat (Felis Chaus). Cougar’s mom is 8 pounds and his father is a 30-pound jungle cat. He’s about 16 pounds, super intelligent, spirited, and toilet trained. A writer without a cat (or two) is not to be trusted.