It was a chilly night, in the midst of October. I had just gotten off work as a 2nd shift closer, and the city already looked like it was asleep.
But it wasn’t.
My car was in the shop, something about a carburetor, so I had recently been walking home, given that I only lived a few miles away downtown.
Even as a child, I’ve never been afraid of the dark, because it is where I’ve always felt most comfortable and safe, given my nature. It is more the relentless illumination of daylight that causes me discomfort.
Most Times.
Tonight, however…was different.
Something about the way the arctic air penetrated into my very being, amidst the subtle flickering of the overhead amber street-lights, caused me to shudder, temperature aside. Pulling my checkered scarf tightly around my face, I trudged onward through the dirty snow. As I cut through the middle of a large cross-walk, I heard a voice call out:
“Young Man!!!”
Without slowing down, I pivoted on the balls of my feet, only slightly, towards the source of the sound, which seemed to come from a nearby alley. I saw a filthy bundle of over-sized clothes sprout an arm, and beckon to me.
Being as I was overly exhausted, and engaging bums wasn’t a regular past-time of mine at 11 p.m. , I returned my vision to the road and continued my previous course.
“Say! I know you hear me!!”, The raspy voice howled. “I got thangs to sell!”
I continued to move forward, not the least bit interested.
“Say, Ziggy! All I need is a moment of your time.”
I stopped.
How the fuck did this random vagabond know my name?
Red hot pangs of anger sprouted throughout my chest, and I whipped my head around to look, but the anger swiftly turned to confusion and subsequently fear, given that he had somehow closed the considerable distance between us almost instantaneously.
This was a rough city, and though I knew it like the back of my hand, I didn’t know the person in front of me, not even a little bit. Yet, something like a primordial intuition told me that I was very much out of my league, if it came down to any sort of confrontation. Still, I regarded the small blade in my coat pocket, just in case.
As if reading my mind, he put his hands up, as if to indicate he wasn’t a threat, and I imagined for a second a glimpse of glowing red eyes within the depths of the hood obscuring his face.
“No worries brotha, they calls me Whiskey Lou! Though, I prefer Jack Daniels on occasion.”
As I was admittedly somewhat intrigued, if not alarmed, I physically forced myself to relax, which would lend itself to any explosive movements I might need to make in the immediate future.
I noticed that despite the present temperature, there was an almost palpable aura of heat radiating from Lou. Not the gentle warmth of a mother’s embrace, but rather the kind of heat one instinctively avoids, like a red-hot stove-burner, or the tip of an upright iron.
He continued; “I’m in the business of sellin’ thangs.” He snapped his fingers and a rectangular black business card appeared between his pointer and middle finger. “Here, take my card.”
I tentatively reached out and took the card, noting it seemed a bit fancy for a seemingly homeless man to be carrying around, but for some reason didn’t question it further than that, sliding it into my coat pocket.
He reached into the hood (behind his ear?) and produced a Newport cigarette, which he deftly manipulated between his fingers for a few seconds, before making a flicking motion that somehow lit the cigarette.
Taking a hefty drag, he slowly exhaled, wispy trails of smoke mixing with the fog created by the night air.
At this point, I couldn’t help but to ask: “What exactly is it that you sell?”
Beneath the void of the hood, I saw a sparkling of glowing red, and the glint of what seemed to be gold-tipped fangs, as Whiskey Lou let loose a guttural chuckle that sounded more like a growl.
“Well…You could say I sell a little bit of everythang, and my wares tend to be…quite exclusive. The real question you should be asking, is what I ask in exchange.”
He took another deliberate drag off his Newport, and I felt his gaze penetrating to the core of my very soul. I suddenly felt very small, like a bacteria that became aware of the vastness of the ocean.
The intensity caused me to take a step back.
“Well anyhow, I’m sure we both got thangs to do.” He said, discarding the cigarette, which somehow was mostly consumed.
“If ya require my services, just take a hold of that there card and find the nearest alley. I’ll find ya.”
This struck me as a bit strange, but no more so than anything else I’d witnessed in the last few minutes. I simply nodded.
“Uh, thanks.” I said.
He nodded also, and made his way back to the alley, the oven-like heat departing with him. Shivering, I tightened the drawstrings on my hoodie and continued making my way home.
***
Being as I was quite drained from work, and perhaps other things, I immediately sunk into my memory foam mattress, not even bothering to eat. When I woke up, it was already noon.
I made breakfast (eggs over easy, turkey bacon with toast and strawberry jam preserves) and browsed social media on my phone for a bit, before washing up.
I didn’t need to go in until 3 p.m., which meant I still had a few hours to burn. I decided to do something productive, but as often happened, I ended up on Reddit.
I saw some interesting posts in the “no-sleep” sub-Reddit, which ended up reminding me about last nights encounter.
Wondering if it had actually happened at all, I found my coat and dug into the pocket. Sure enough, the fancy black business card was there.
Being as it was dark, I hadn’t got a good look at it last night. It was matte black, with gold floral trim, that seemed to glitter when the light caught it a certain angle. Slightly raised in the center was a logo that resembled some sort of winged goat.
It read:
“Louis C. Furr, pH D. General Purpose Merchant
If You Want It, I Got It.,
Accepted payment methods: EBT, Cash App, All physical currency, All non-physical currency. Trades welcome.
Hours: Monday through Saturday any time after sundown.”
It looked like it was expensive, but there was no apparent contact information, QR codes, or any sort of social media handles. I figured that had to have been intentional.
Well, in any case, I’m sure I’ll be able to find him when I need to, though I’m not sure if I should. Have ya’ll heard of Whiskey Lou?