Hello Dear Readers,
For the first several weeks of living in Kevin’s Crossing the center of my universe has been the coffee shop, the Steaming Mug. It has fed me, been the source of social interaction, and provided me with a connection to the larger world(free wifi).
But like any small town, the true heart of my new hometown is local mini-mart/gas station. About 1.2 miles from my apartment is Ziggy’s, part of a local franchise found in this area. Ziggy’s provides essentially everything a person needs to survive. From food to gas, to basic home essentials, to cold cuts, and sandwiches.
Now that I’m settled into my apartment I’ve been making regular trips on foot to Ziggy’s for supplies. This is an important milestone since it signifies my new universe is expanding. My trips are frequent since I can only carry a few groceries at a time(I think I will be investing in a bike soon). That’s perfect because every time is an adventure. So many interesting people, so many interesting stories. Many of them taking place at Ziggy’s. Apparently Ziggy’s is somewhat infamous for strange occurrences, and more than once I’ve heard reference to the Ziggy’s Curse, mentioned in hushed breaths.
Apparently, you're not even considered an official employee unless you’ve seen either lights in the sky or the Smiling Man. Ziggy’s is the focal point for a lot of the town’s unusual activity. I will detail some of the stories I’ve heard in a later post.
A few well-known ones are:
- Talking Skunks
- Time Loops
- Strange and Unknown Currency
- Copulating Lizard People
- An echo that only speaks German
- Chinese Ice Cream Sandwiches
- Strange lights in the sky
- Creepy Smiling Man in a suit
- Spontaneous Synchronized Singing
This evening I actually walked in on the aftermath of such an event. When I first strolled up I was concerned because several police cars were parked haphazardly in front. All with their lights on. At first, it looked like a regular robbery. But it turned out to be anything but regular.
I walked around the scene, unable to enter the store due to the crime scene tape and police presence. Until I saw Officer Eric, a police officer I made friends with at the coffee shop. What luck!
He was standing off to the side checking his cell phone. He saw me nosing around the perimeter and waved me over to ask what I was doing there.
“I need donut holes and eggs,” I explained (Susan, please don’t tell mom). He nodded like he knew exactly what I was talking about. Perhaps he did.
“What’s going on?” I ventured to ask, trying not to sound too excited.
He put his phone in his pocket and glanced around. “Well, my partner and I,” he gestured with his chin towards a dark, statuesque woman in a police officer’s uniform, ”were driving around, checking out reports of a pack of feral dogs in the area. When Harold,” He gestured to a nearby police cruiser, I could see a young man with a receding hairline and a blanket wrapped around him,” ran out into the street in front us buck-naked and screaming.
“Screaming about what?”
“I don’t know,” Officer Eric replied, scratching the back of his head. “The usual, I guess. He said that ‘they’re coming from below’. Whatever that means”.
I looked at the ground and shuffled my feet nervously. “Below?”
“Yeah, local legends, dating all the way back to the natives, about tunnels beneath the ground and weird people that live there. So whenever someone goes bunkers they usually start going on about stuff under the ground. You’ll notice there aren’t a lot of basements in Kevin’s Crossing.” He looked over his shoulder as his partner waved to him. “Gotta go, later man.” He patted me on the shoulder and rejoined his fellow officers.
This was vague but fascinating new information. Perhaps I can find more information about past reports of ‘below ground’ related events and maybe something about the Native Americans that lived in this area and their beliefs. I’ve been meaning to stop by the library and town hall. Now I have the perfect reason!
For now, I still needed my provisions. Ziggy’s didn’t appear to be closed and the entrance wasn't roped off anymore. So I squeezed by a group of cops drinking coffee from Ziggy’s cups and made my way into the establishment. Signs for a local yoga class were hastily taped to the inside of the glass door. Once inside I gathered up my supplies and a pack of delicious Fruit Stripe gum for good measure and headed for the register. Behind the counter stood a cranky looking middle-aged woman whose name tag said 'Assistant Manager Carol’. I dropped my bounty on the counter and smiled enthusiastically.
“Interesting night?” I asked.
“I told him he shouldn't take that stuff,” she said as she scanned my items and dropped them into a plastic bag.
“Huh?” was all I managed to say in response to this unexpected exposition. Though I probably shouldn't have been very surprised, this seemed to be a local custom.
“Those smoking cessation pills. He said they gave him weird dreams, Harold did. I told him to stop taking them. But he didn't. Now, look at 'em.” She made a sweeping hand gesture at nothing in particular and handed me my bag. I began to open the gum immediately.
Realizing that we were indeed talking about Harold, and not about her boyfriend or son or dog, I decided to see if she would share more. “Did you see what happened to Harold?”
“Nah, he was on break and I was in here. He went out to sit on the curb like he did when he smoked and throw his butts down the storm drain. But now he just sits there. Next thing I knew I saw him running across the street in front of the police car.” I nodded and chewed my gum. Clearly, this extraordinarily helpful woman did not need much encouragement. Every person that came into the store for the rest of the evening would probably got the same treatment.
“Now I have to work the rest of his shift for him, the mad bastard,” she turned away from me too busy herself with some other mini-mart work.
What luck again! Sherlock Holmes always made this look so difficult but investigations really are quite easy. I was two for two so I decided to go for three. Since most of the police had left and the commotion was dying down. I walked around the side of the building to the back. The concrete was oil stained and it backed up on some scrubby trees and weeds. It was everything you’d expect it to be! And there it was, the storm drain. It was half covered in trash. Next to it was a faded ‘no dumping’ sign. Between the curb and the sidewalk grew a sad looking plant with a single wilted flower. I sidled over to the drain carefully. It seemed unlikely that any monsters or mole-people would be present to give me any trouble after the police were here. But I didn’t want to take any chances. Who would write this blog, dear reader, if something happened to me?
I leaned over and peered through the grate. No eyes peered back or strange voices whispered to me. A shame really. Though I shouldn’t be too disappointed. It has been a productive evening on the grocery and weird and unusual occurrences fronts. I now have several leads to follow! Just like Sherlock!
As I headed back to my apartment Officer Eric was getting into his patrol car with his partner. “Watch out for those dogs, we still haven’t been caught them.” I thanked him and made sure that I stuck to well lit streets on the way home. It would be unfortunate to get eaten by a pack of vicious dogs when Kevin’s Crossing is just starting to open up and share its secrets with me.
Postscript
When I returned to my apartment my new lamp was turned on. I'm 92.67% sure that I turned it off. And I'm certain that I didn't leave the mystery bulb on. But there it was, glowing it's strange iridescent light. How spine tingly!
Post Postscript
I checked, my apartment building doesn't have a basement. Curiouser and curiouser.
I’ll keep you updated!
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