Marsupial Tracks

By Brian Krasielwicz

As a jaded regular in the city’s underground music scene, the only thing that mattered to Jacob Blythe was punk rock. When the arrival of a mysterious girl tempts him into seeing a vision of the world that exists beyond the confines of his cosmic nihilism, Jacob finds himself helpless to resist it.

Now, sitting alone in an unfamiliar train station, and possessing no memory of how he got there, Jacob has no choice but to piece together the scattered remnants of this fractured past before he is consumed by the sinister creature chasing him.

With time running out and one of the greatest punk bands of all time about to take the stage, Jacob has only one chance to discover the answers to life’s most complicated questions.

If only he and his friends hadn’t drunk so much first…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Nov 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781398498303

Brian Krasielwicz

Brian Krasielwicz was born in New York and was raised in the south near Atlanta.  He holds a BA from UWG and an MPA from Walden University.  In 2014, Brian founded a non-profit group dedicated to environmental stewardship.   He spends his days making pizzas, watching horror movies, and looking forward to the next punk rock show.  Marsupial Tracks is his first novel.

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About the Author

Brian Krasielwicz was born in New York and was raised in the south near Atlanta. He holds a BA from UWG and an MPA from Walden University. In 2014, Brian founded a non-profit group dedicated to environmental stewardship. He spends his days making pizzas, watching horror movies, and looking forward to the next punk rock show. Marsupial Tracks is his first novel.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to Taylor, Phil, and Sam,

and to all the time that we spent between Heaven and Hell.

Copyright Information ©

Brian Krasielwicz 2023

The right of Brian Krasielwicz to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398498280 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398498297 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781398498303 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Acknowledgement

Cover design by Laura Barnes.

Prologue

My head was in a whirlwind as I got into my car and accelerated down the road. I hoped Starling was watching when I pulled away. I hoped she felt every ounce of what was going on inside of me. She had yelled after me in the parking lot but I ignored her. I wanted to deprive her of any satisfaction that she could have found in whatever else was left to say. My wounded pride could at least take solace in knowing that I left on my terms. My. Fucking. Terms. Squeezing the steering wheel with both hands, I took a deep breath and pushed the gas pedal deeper into the floor mat. I didn’t know where I was heading. I just knew I needed to get there fast. Maybe if I drove fast enough, I could outrace everything that was falling apart behind me. The lines on the road blurred as I picked up speed. The car hastened forward and I focused with singular intention on the anguish that tore through me, swirled around me, and then rushed through the open windows driven hard by the piercing night air.

A note I had written to her, the one I had meant to slip into her purse at just the right moment, fell prey to the snapping wind that whipped through the car. The paper hovered off the passenger seat for a moment, as if it had understood its purpose but hadn’t quite realized that it has been forsaken. In a violent motion, it jerked backward into the rear glass. A pile of operating reports from my restaurant took flight and covered the road with the detritus of my former life. I spun the dial on my sound system and turned up the music that was already hammering through the speakers. The thundering of drums and the slicing screams of guitar riffs flooded my head and drowned out the rest of my senses. My eyes locked onto the horizon but I saw straight through it. My jaw clenched as if to keep the molten emotion inside of me from spilling over my lips and burning through the upholstery. Starling. Fucking Starling. I punched the wheel in anger.

She was better than that. She was so much better than that. And maybe I wasn’t good enough and that was fine but that asshole didn’t deserve her either. My stomach felt as though I had swallowed a ball of fire. An errant flame tore through the linings of my insides until everything was raw and burned and scarred. Every breath from my lungs was hot with ash. How could this happen? After all the time we spent together. After all the things we said. After all we had been through. We were a product of fate. We were meant to be together. We were destiny… until he came back and destroyed everything.

And what of her promise to me? What of our plans to build a life together? Nothing. It all meant nothing. It was a diversion for her. It was just another game of make believe. I had been chasing smoke. I screamed as loudly as I could until my head throbbed from the rush of blood and my lungs gasped desperately for air.

She was everything to me. She was my entire world and I needed so desperately for her to be that world. I needed her to make everything right. I needed her to reset the balance in a universe that had mocked me for far too long. She was the only thing that made sense, the only thing that I could truly believe in, and the only thing I wanted to believe in. I gave up everything for her… and then I lost her. I lost her to Mark. I lost her to that same scumbag that had made her his punching bag. I shouted into the night air once again. How could this happen? Enraged thoughts appeared. They spun about and circled through my head like a poisonous carousel. Lights, sounds, movements; all of them combined into manifestations of disjointed memories that painted the cityscape rushing past me. All of them blurred together in a swirl of anger and confusion. Everything was twisting around inside of me. I couldn’t make sense of it. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Starling. Fucking Starling.

I heard the warning of a car horn as I drove through an intersection but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything anymore. I didn’t care about Mark. I didn’t care about the party. I didn’t care about the necklace. I didn’t care about that day at the beach and most of all, I didn’t care about Starling. I laughed in satisfaction as I jerked the wheel to the side in reckless abandon and then flung it back in the other direction to keep from smashing into a car. She wasn’t hurting me. This was her loss. This was her mistake. Her. Fucking. Mistake. I thought of her feint of a smile at the restaurant and the fireball inside of me made another pass around my tortured digestive system. How could she do this to me? How could she go back to him? I closed my eyes hard and pressed them together for several moments before opening them again.

For a fraction of a second, I noticed an almost imperceptible change in the confusing void beyond my windshield. Time slowed down enough for me to focus on a tiny light above the street that clicked from yellow to red, just a soft change in hue, a tiny dance on the color wheel. I was already shooting through the intersection but in that moment, it felt like the tires stopped spinning and I stared a long time at that small light above me. My brain struggled to decipher the meaning of the subtle transition of color and as I looked up in wonderment, I blinked.

One blink and then time sped up again. Maybe it went even faster to make up for what it had lost. I don’t know. I just know that after that blink of my eyes, I could make out the shape of a truck crossing the lane in front of me. There was no time to brake but the thought of taking my foot off the accelerator never crossed my mind. My senses, stunned with disbelief, didn’t even activate the early-warning system in my brain. In that fleeting moment, the only reaction my body gave me was to offer one solitary thought, one concise expression of my impending doom, one final word to summarize the last wasted second of my young and pointless life: Fuck.

And then, everything went black.

Chapter One

I sat alone in the darkened train station for a long time and I listened to the phone ring. Tracing the walls of the cavernous platform surrounding me were two lines of fluorescent lights. Half of the bulbs were broken and the ones that still shined gave off a dull yellow glow that served more to accent the dreary station than to illuminate it. I sat on a thin bench in the middle of the platform, waiting for a train that never seemed to arrive. In fact, I had been waiting for so long that I no longer remembered where I needed to go… and the phone was ringing. It had been ringing steadily for the entirety of the time I had been waiting for the train. And it rang. And it rang. And it rang. The problem was that there simply wasn’t a phone anywhere on the platform, or at least not one that I could find.

After several nerve-racking moments of listening to the piercing ring of the telephone echo across the empty chamber walls and rattle around in its long brick tunnels, I started to walk around the platform to try to locate it. Four large columns extended upwards to the ceiling. I circled around them but saw no sign of a phone. Behind me was an opening in the wall where two bathrooms were located. The air was filled with the smells of must and urine. In the men’s bathroom, the humidity in the air hung heavy. The paper towel dispenser was cracked, the front panel beaten-in and broken with the towels long removed. There was toilet tissue all over the floor and a sheen of moisture coating the dirty tile walls, but there was no telephone. The women’s bathroom had been no less inviting. On the wall was an outline of a mirror that had either been removed or stolen. Rusted tin anchors were left embedded in the busted tiles above the sink. I found what had remained of a plastic lighter, but again, there was no telephone. I walked back out to the platform and over to the only remaining break in the long hallway, a set of double doors that lacked handles boasting a sign that read No Entry. I pressed my ear up to the door, taking care not to let it touch the grimy metal. I listened to the phone ring several times but I could tell that the sound wasn’t coming from inside of the doors. In fact, it seemed like it was originating from the center of the platform where it rang. And it rang. And it rang.

Having combed the platform without success, I sat back down on the thin bench where I continued to wait. Based on the schedule that was flashing on the handful of buzzing, iridescent screens hanging directly above me, I knew there would be a train arriving shortly. Although, in spite of the buzzing indicators, the insufferable ringing of the telephone continued to rattle across the platform. It seemed that no matter how long I sat, the train was no closer to arrival. I started to question my own memory. Had the arrival time counted down at all? How long had I been waiting? How many times had I listened to the telephone ring? A hundred? A thousand? My muscles began to tighten every time the sound of the phone split the air. My eyes behaved reflexively as though they were the methodical blinking of hazard lights on a car. Ring. Open. Ring. Close. Ring. Open. Ring. Close.

I looked back at the light display. There was a space reserved for the current time but it had burned out. My eyes darted back to the arrival schedule. Ring. Ring. Ring. Still no change. I quickly peered into both ends of the tunnel and then back up to the arrival schedule, begging it to change, pleading with it to alter just one digit…

I felt small sitting on the abandoned platform and I suddenly realized just how alone I was. I tried to distract myself. I tried to think about… anything. I tried to remember what I was doing here, where I was going, where I had come from, or how I had gotten here to begin with. Had I fallen asleep? Had I passed out? How long had I been waiting there? Ring. Ring. Ring. There was a memory there but I couldn’t find it. It was as though I was trying to recall an obscure name or a face from somewhere in the distant past. If I could only concentrate… but that was impossible because every few moments the telephone would ring. And ring. And ring.

I clenched my teeth. I threw my hands over my ears. I pressed my eyelids together tightly trying to will the caller to hang up the phone. Even with my palms hard against my ears, I could still hear the phone. I could hear it rattling around in my head. Ring. Ring. Ring. Who was sitting on the phone for this long? What kind of a person just sits there and lets it ring hundreds of times? Ring. Ring. Ring. I opened my eyes and glared at the arrival schedule. The lights still hadn’t changed.

Finally losing control, I let out an anguished yell, releasing all of my frustrations out into the cavernous terminal. As my screams echoed deep into the darkness, I felt a cold hand firmly grip my shoulder. I jumped off the bench. My breath caught in my throat while my heart pounded. Spinning around I saw that the hand belonged to a disheveled looking man with an ivy cap and a smoker’s jacket.

Woah, young man. Get a hold of yourself. You alright? As he spoke, I could see that his front teeth were yellow and crooked, a gold tooth jutted irregularly out of his mouth.

I shook my head from side to side as if to try to make sense of the unexpected event. I grimaced and cleared my throat. My attention immediately left the ringing telephone and focused on the disheveled man standing in front of me. He had a concerned look on his face and he watched me with dark, hollow eyes.

You alright? He repeated. You know where you are, Son?

Yeah… I mumbled unconvincingly. I guess all that ringing was just putting me on edge.

Huh? He asked. What ringing?

All of sudden it occurred to me that the telephone had gone quiet. I looked around the platform, half expecting to see other changes in my surroundings, but the walls betrayed nothing. The man continued to stand in front of me. His bemused expression indicated his puzzlement.

There was a phone, I started. It was ringing… you had to have heard… My voice trailed away until it was inaudible.

The man slowly nodded his head as though he were trying to be sympathetic. He grunted something unintelligible.

Sorry? I mumbled.

Listen, Son. Do you know where you are? Do you know where you’re going? As he asked the questions, he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket and packed them in his hand before pulling one out and putting it in his mouth. He held the pack out to me. I shook my head. The disheveled man shrugged.

I don’t remember, I replied. I mean, I know it sounds stupid… but I honestly don’t remember. I slumped back down onto the bench. It was definitely concerning. It was as though a large portion of my memory had been wiped clean. As thoughts raced through my head, I had this instinctive feeling that the memories I recalled were incomplete, like they had been tampered with or fabricated. I stared into the distance. The strange man continued to watch me with uncertainty.

Well… the man began, dragging out the word as he spoke. He pulled a small matchbook out of his pocket and struck a match against the emery paper on the back. Cupping the air around his cigarette with his hand, he puffed it to life. Satisfied that it was lit, he shook the match with his hand until the flame extinguished and then he flicked it over the side of the platform. He took a deep breath from the cigarette before continuing. The way I see it, if you don’t know where you’re going, there isn’t any reason to be getting on a train and if there isn’t any reason to be getting on a train, then there isn’t any reason to be waiting for the train to come. He emphasized the last few syllables by stabbing at the air with his cigarette.

I sat perfectly still and continued to eye the man guardedly. I wasn’t sure what to make of the situation.

The man seemed unfazed by my lack of a reaction and continued. Now, I’m not trying to upset you, you see? I’m just trying to help you make sense of the situation here. His cold hand patted me hard on the shoulder several times. You see those tunnels, he asked, waving his arm in both directions. I turned my head to the directions he was pointing. "Well, the great thing about train platforms is that they can only go two ways. You can’t ever get too lost. You can only go this way or that way. As he spoke, he once again pointed his arm, first in one direction, and then in the other. The problem is that some folks don’t know which way they should be heading. That’s a problem, you see?"

I stared blankly at the wall across the station. The strange man continued to speak: Oh, it certainly is a problem, he said. You can only go one way, and you wouldn’t want to go the wrong way. The man laughed. Oh no! You wouldn’t want to do that. He took another puff on his cigarette.

My head ached. I swallowed hard. I closed my eyes tightly for a second and then reopened them. The disheveled man continued to stand in front of me. He had a sickly smile on his face that exposed his rotten teeth.

You see, the thing is this, he continued. This platform just isn’t any normal stop. You don’t often see folks getting off here. There’s nothing here, you see? The city blocks never intended to come out this far. Even the roads around here don’t understand why they were built. There’s just no reason that folks would be getting off at this stop unless they’re lost. Suddenly, he looked up at me. With a tone of satisfaction in his voice, he declared: Oh, I just knew you were lost. Not many folks get off here that aren’t!

I was getting agitated. I wasn’t sure what was contributing to my splitting headache more, the earlier incessant ringing of the telephone or the circles within which the disheveled man was talking. I wanted him to leave. I needed to think. I needed to remember. What was I doing here?

The man coughed, momentarily choking on the smoke of his cigarette. After he cleared his congested lungs, he looked up at me and gave me another toothy smile. This platform here is a getting-on spot and if you don’t know where you want to go… well, I beg your pardon but there just isn’t any reason to get on, you see?

Okay. I get it, I said flatly. I get how trains work. I placed my hands on my head to try to calm the pressure inside my skull.

Well, that’s good, Son, he said immediately. That’s real good. I can tell you’ve got a discerning mind. The kid’s got a discerning mind is what I told myself when I first saw you. You see, I can read a person and I just knew! The kid’s lost but he’s got a discerning mind! Again, the man smiled at me. His large yellow teeth stuck out from his gums.

Listen… I don’t even know you…

Cass is the name, he interrupted. Maybe you’ve heard of me? Ole’ Cass has been around a long time. You see, I spend a lot of time at this here platform observing folks, helping those that are lost find their way. This isn’t the kind of decision that comes easy! Why sometimes people look at Ole’ Cass and they think I can’t possibly help them find their way but I’ve got the gift of being able to read a person.

I held up my hand to try to stop him from continuing his story. Okay. Listen. I’ve got a really bad headache and I’m having kind of a difficult time thinking straight right now and I would rather just be alone for a few minutes… I spoke slowly and methodically in the hopes that he would get the point and leave me to my solitude. As I spoke, I could hear my voice echo against the other side of the empty platform.

That’s the stuff, always thinking. A man’s just got to have time to think sometimes. You just can’t figure out where you’re supposed to go without thinking on it. That’s what I always say and there’s no better place to think than when you’re waiting on a train. The disheveled man gestured emphatically as he rambled.

Right, so that’s why I need to be alone… so I can think. I tried to sound as aggravated as possible. I stared at him with a look that was indicative of my annoyance. Even the severe expression I gave him didn’t display the half of it.

Oh well, you don’t need to worry about me. Ole’ Cass’s got places to be, you see. I can’t just wait here all day just sitting and waiting for a train that won’t even be coming. I’ve got a long day of thinking to do myself. The disheveled man finally turned around and started to walk away.

Wait a second, I shouted. What do you mean there isn’t another train coming today? I turned around to look at him but the man was gone. I spun my head around but there was no sight of him anywhere. I looked back up at the arrival schedule. The buzzing screen no longer displayed numbers. I looked back at the stairs leading down to the platform, searching for any trace of the annoying man. I stood up and walked toward the cavernous entrance but there was still no sign of him. What do you mean the train isn’t coming? I shouted again into the empty chamber.

I squinted my eyes as I tried to compel my brain to work. All of a sudden, the phone started ringing again. The noise reverberated throughout the vacant corridor. I whipped around at the sound of the ringing and there, against one of the dingy tiled columns that supported the ceiling was an old blue payphone. I could see the handset vibrate as the phone rang. Completely confused, I instinctively started walking toward it. I watched it ring several times as I tried to rationalize why I hadn’t seen the payphone earlier. I could swear that there was nothing there before but now…

I lifted the handset. The plastic was cold in my hands. I looked at it in disbelief for a moment before putting it up to my ear. Hello… I offered weakly.

Jacob, what the fuck are you doing down at the station? I’ve been looking for you everywhere, man! Meet me over at the Lounge.

Dave? The name came out like a statement even though I meant it more as a question.

Yeah. What is your problem? Are you high right now? Snap out of it! What are you doing over there, anyway? The voice on the phone was getting impatient.

I don’t know… I guess… I don’t remember. My mind swirled. A lump formed in my throat. I felt like I was going to be sick. Dave? I asked again.

Look man, whatever shit you took, you must have taken too much. You need to get over here before you black out or something. I’ll be inside.

The phone clicked and the only sound I could still hear on the line was a dial-tone. I held the phone close to my ear for several moments before slowly lowering it down to my chest. I stared at the handset for a long time and then I skeptically placed it back on the receiver.

Dave? Was it really him? What was he doing calling me? It didn’t make any sense. Could it be possible?

I emerged from the train station and walked out onto the city street. The air was cool and fresh and I took a deep breath of it into my lungs to try to rid myself of the sour smell that had festered inside the platform. I zipped up my hoodie and thrust my hands into the pockets. I looked back and forth along the roadway several times as I tried to get my bearings. I didn’t think that I had ever been to this part of the city before and I couldn’t remember how I had gotten there this time. I scanned the skyline trying to orient myself to the large buildings and towers that loomed majestically above me. Spinning in circles as I scanned the rooftops, I felt an odd sensation of impermanence, as though the giant concrete and steel structures were appearing and disappearing as they left my focal point. I looked back and forth several times trying to catch a discrepancy in the background before I realized how foolishly I was acting. Buildings don’t just disappear… and if they did, they certainly wouldn’t come back… right? I noticed a store window across the street with a grandfather clock on display. I looked down the length of the road but oddly, there were no vehicles in sight. I hurried across the empty asphalt and walked up to the pane of glass showcasing a sample of the store’s wares. I squinted my eyes as I scrutinized the time-piece. The clock’s giant brass pendulum swung back-and-forth but the hour and minute hands on its face just seemed to only tremble and vibrate in place. What time was it? It seemed like it was later in the day but the hazy skies blocked out the sun and prevented my confirmation. I took another deep breath of the clean air and started walking toward the closest intersection. It would have been easier for me to find myself if I was driving, or at least it would have been quicker for me to find some place that looked familiar. Unfortunately, after destroying my car, I had no choice but to take the train or walk the city’s unforgiving streets.

I listened to my feet thump against the payment as I tried to organize my thoughts. I remembered waiting for the train but I couldn’t remember where I was going or how long I had been there. I ran my hand through my hair. It was gelled and styled. That meant I hadn’t worn a hat and so I hadn’t gone to the train station after work. I remembered the phone ringing but there wasn’t a phone and then when there was a phone, there was Dave. Only, I felt certain that the phone wasn’t there the first time I looked and I knew that Dave shouldn’t have been there regardless. And then there were the other questions: If it was Dave on the phone, then how did he find me? Did I tell anyone else where I might have been going? Why didn’t any trains pass through the platform?

As I approached the intersection, I looked up at the street signs that has been mounted to the large aluminum poles rising out of the sidewalk. Only one of the signs was legible. The other was blacked out with spray paint. It didn’t matter. I had never heard of the road anyway. I looked in both directions again. The street was still empty. I continued walking away from the platform. I still didn’t know where I was going but I felt confident that if I just kept walking in the same direction, I was bound to find a cross street that I could identify or I would run across a person that could help me to orient myself.

My footsteps sounded heavy on the deserted pavement. The noises from my movements reverberated across the quiet street. It was a sullen and desolate part of the city. All of the shops around me were closed. The buildings were alternatively boarded up or covered in graffiti. Or both. Everything had a lifeless gray hue. It was as if the all of colors had become disinterested and simply wandered away. Large swaths of muted silver mottled my surroundings. When I approached the next intersection, I was chagrined to discover that both road signs were missing. I looked down the side streets again but the farther I looked, the hazier and more indefinite the objects became.

I reached out to touch the wall of a towering building but it seemed to shrink back from my contact. It wasn’t that the concrete structure was moving away from me. It was more like the sensation of it not being there at all, like I was seeing a reflection of my own reality in a puddle of water and my attempts to poke at it with my shoe only made the image become wavy and distorted. An image flashed through my memory and I remembered the day I spent at the beach with her and how the sun looked as it reflected off the surface of the drifting water. There had been this shimmering and almost translucent quality to the sky back then and while it seemed like I could easily reach out and snatch the objects that reflected above the water, I knew that they were far from my grasp. And now, so was she. I shook my head to break the spell. This wasn’t my first dance. I had spent my fair share of nights under the influence of a smorgasbord of chemicals and so the surreal quality that now colored my surroundings didn’t concern me nearly as much as my own sense of disorientation. I felt lost as I walked aimlessly down another street and then up a third. Where the fuck was I and how did I get here?

I tried to think rationally. Was there a map on the platform? No. I had thoroughly searched the platform. Or at least I thought I had… but then what about the phone? Had I blacked out somewhere? This certainly didn’t feel like any black-out I had ever experienced. What part of the city was I in? Where was everybody? I lifted my hand over my eyes and scanned the road in front of me. I noticed a familiar blue square on a rectangle sign by the pavement. The square was a bus route symbol and if I was near the blue line…

All of a sudden, I started to recognize my surroundings. The disorienting filter that was covering my eyes faded away. The colors began to seem vibrant again. The drab haze cleared. The blurry outlines of buildings now gained a geometric opaqueness. A smoke-belching pick-up truck rumbled down the asphalt beside me. Loud noises of people and vehicles began to fill the air. Details filled themselves into the surrounding cityscape. It was as though a Polaroid picture was developing while I was still inside of it and when the picture finally stopped shaking, I saw myself standing on the sidewalk next to the 86 Club. I definitely knew this place.

Chapter Two

The 86 Club was an alternative bar that specialized in cocaine and drag shows. I had spent many an evening at the 86 with my buddy Pete, drinking and playing pool and talking about music. Pete was one of my oldest friends and I never lacked for a good time when he was around. We had met in high school where we instantly bonded, drinking forties and shooting hoops at his mother’s house after school. At a little over six feet, Pete was taller than me and the curly brown hair that sat unkempt on top of his head made him look taller still. He liked to think of himself as a lady’s man and would craft elaborate plans to get in the good graces of those girls that he considered to be attractive. While he rarely found success in his pursuits, his reputation as the Doctor certainly enhanced his prospects.

Pete wasn’t actually a doctor, of course, but he was smart enough to have been one if he had wanted. In fact, it was never really clear how the nickname had started. There were two schools of thought on it and each one offered its own contributions to the moniker. The first theory was that Pete was a huge fan of professional wrestling and his favorite wrestler was a large, hulking man with a beard known only as Doctor Doom. His trademark move was to stretch both of his arms out wide and then to spin in a circle in the ring, bellowing loudly and ostensibly knocking over anyone in his path. If we could get Pete drunk enough, sometimes we could talk him into imitating the move, although usually he wouldn’t stop until he managed to break whatever furniture happened to be nearby. The second possible explanation was that while Pete rarely ever did any drugs, he always seemed to have a large quantity on hand to sell and this quality made him quite the popular person to be around. Having said that, Pete was also ridiculously cheap and crafty and because of that, most of his stash was not nearly as potent as it appeared to be, and that was if the drugs were even what he said they were to begin with. Fortunately for Pete’s growing business, an addict needing a fix doesn’t have the time or patience for those kinds of distinctions and Pete’s affable personality generally kept him out of trouble.

I thought back now to that night at the 86 where I had first learned her name. It was a strange evening and there was this uneasy vibe in the air. Shelley and I had been fighting again and we both went out of our way to try to give each other some space. I had made some plans to hang out with my friend Dave, but he and his roommate Reese got a tip that a local brewery was sampling