“It is you,” Lenny said with a sneer. His eyeballs twitched like rock candy in the mouth of a boy of thirteen’s first porno. Lenny’s nostrils, normally thin and pinched, which caused his nose to look like a triangular caricature, flared like the hood of a venomous cobra snake, their two enormous openings seeming, to Lenny’s momentary clarity brought about by his anger, to breathe steam from their dark canals. “I’ve seen you before. You tracked me down on the day that Aunt Elaine fell ill. I’ve been looking for you ever since then. Did you know that my lovely aunt was not dead but terribly sick? I’m wondering if perhaps you, the mystery man from the coffee shop who proclaimed her death, perhaps you had something to do with that. No need to answer. I already know the answer. And, in case you were wondering, you failed in killing her.”

The man took a few steps back, his beige overcoat wrapping around his short stick legs, which looked more so because his gray slacks came up a few inches short of his shoes revealing his yellow-stained white socks visible. The man grabbed the nearest wall to stop himself from falling. “What are you talking about? I’ve never seen you before today. You must have me mistaken with someone else. You see, I’m an insurance—” the man said.

“Oh no,” Lenny said, interrupting the bemused man. “I could never forget your face, your shrunken ears, your wrinkled chin, or your large sunglasses. You are the man I’ve seen before,” Lenny said with righteous disdain. “Here, at last, I have found the man that caused Aunt Elaine’s sickness. Why don’t you come in? We should chat.”

The man took another step backward, this time holding the tail of his coat to prevent his tripping again. “I’m—I’m not even wearing sunglasses,” the man said. “Please, I just need to—”

“Don’t finish,” Lenny said, again interrupting the man. He grabbed the man by his bicep and pulled him into his apartment. He pointed to the doormat, and the man obediently wiped his feet before Lenny continued dragging him to the couch, which was covered by dirty clothing and half-eaten fast-food sandwiches and wrappers. Lenny did not bother to clear a space for the man before half-releasing and half-pushing him on to the cushions. Lenny heard a large crunching sound as the man squished the remains of three days of fast food wrappers. Lenny never felt such power before. It was intoxicating. He felt like ripping his sweater off to reveal the blue and red superhero underwear that he must be wearing underneath. He tilted his head back and laughed a menacing sound, menacing even to Lenny’s own ears. He liked the sound and continued to laugh until the sounds echoed off the walls and back into his ears.

When the laughter finally stopped, the man cleared his throat. “Sir, if you’d just listen. I don’t know who you think I am but you must have me mistaken,” the man said. Lenny paced behind the couch, forcing the man to twist his head first in one direction then the other to keep him in view. Lenny, his face filled with red splotches and his breathing tremulous, did not look up as he paced. The man faltered. He looked eagerly toward the door and back to Lenny. Lenny saw the glance and his eyes widened. He hurried to the door and threw the deadlocks and pulled the chain. There would be no escape for the mystery man.

The man was much smaller than Lenny, and wore a brown hat that looked oddly familiar. “You weren’t wearing that hat at the coffee shop. I can’t quite place it. What type of hat is that?” Lenny said.

“The ha—hat? It’s an Australian Outback hat. I bought it when I went on a safari tour in Australia,” the man said.

“Ah, yes, it’s the Crocodile Dundee hat!” Lenny grinned wildly and the man’s face took on a horrified grimace, his upper lip lifted to show slightly yellow and crooked teeth, and his hand raised to protect his face. Lenny never felt so powerful before. Here was his prey, and he felt like the cat playing with the mouse, a very active and alive mouse. He would hold him by his tail until he got his answers. But first he was going to have fun. It had been too long since he had fun with someone.

“Please, sir. Don’t hurt me. I never met your aunt. I’m sure she’s a wonderful lady, and I would never dream of hurting her. I’m a peaceful man. I sell insurance, sir. See,” the man held up his brown briefcase, “I was going to offer you a policy.”

Lenny watched the man. He was a sly one, this insurance salesman, but Lenny saw through his games. He was here for something, and Lenny was going to figure it out. He silently beseeched his sweater to fill in the details, but there was no response. No heat emanated from the sweater and no thoughts swirled around his mind. It was quiet in there, unexpectedly quiet. Lenny did not mind. There was more than one way to get the answers he needed.

“So, Mr. Dundee, you’re an insurance salesman, are you?” Lenny paused to let his tone and insinuation sink in. “If that’s true, and that is what you are claiming, Mr. Dundee, what were you doing in the Banana Bread coffee shop two weeks ago? Selling insurance, I presume?” Lenny hovered over the man, leaning over the back of the couch so his face was close to the man.

The man removed his hat to reveal a liver spotted head. The gray wisps of hair that remained were oily and stretched from one side to the other, making his head look like the last few strands on a ball of yarn. The man held the hat out for Lenny’s inspection. “The tour was part of a boat cruise. I swear. I’m not Mr. Dundee. I’m Doug, Doug Sanders. I know nothing of your aunt and I’ve never seen you before today,” the man said, a slight sob hiccupping in his voice.

“I wasn’t even asking you about my aunt, Mr. Dundee. How strange that you would bring her up again. It’s almost as if you have some guilt about what happened to her. But we’ll get to that in a second. We were talking about the Banana Bread coffee shop. Have you ever been there?” Lenny said.

When Lenny did not take his offered hat, the man put his hat back on his head and sat back in the sofa, his back now to Lenny. “I’ve been to many Banana Bread coffee shops, sir. Now, if you don’t mind. I think I’m going to leave now.” The man started to rise. Lenny acted quickly, placing both hands on the man’s shoulders and pushing him back down to a seated position.

“Leaving so soon, Mr. Dundee? But we’ve just gotten started. We were talking about the Banana Bread coffee shop, this particular one you visited was on PCH. You were wearing a business suit, very spiffy, much more expensive than the one you are wearing today. You might remember this specific coffee shop because of the bikers. There were lots of bicyclists there, and you looked strange in your expensive, European shoes, clacking along on the floor and making more noise than the bicyclists,” Lenny said.

The man was shaking visibly now. Lenny’s hands were still on his shoulder and he was leaning down with his weight from above the couch. “I don’t own expensive shoes, sir. This is the best pair I have,” the man said, holding up his legs for Lenny’s inspection. The shoes were brown wingtip shoes, the soles worn and the leather unpolished. They were not the European brand that Lenny expected. He shrugged off the differences.

“In disguise, are we, Mr. Dundee? I don’t blame you. You must know that I would eventually track you down. Did you think you would run forever?” Lenny said.

“But I visited you today, sir. I visited you to sell insurance and we’ve never met before. Listen, if you let me leave now, no harm will be done. I won’t tell anyone about what happened, and you can pursue whoever it was that injured your aunt. Now, please, remove your hands from my shoulders,” the man said. He started to rise and Lenny let go. The man rose from the couch and turned to face Lenny. “My name is Doug Sanders, sir. And we’ve never met before. I’m going to leave now, and you’re going to let me leave. Nobody will ever know that I was here. You are going to find the man you seek. I wish you look,” the man said.

Lenny watched as he headed to the door. He did not turn around until he unbolted all the locks and chain and stepped outside. He looked once at Lenny before turning and running down the hallway. When he first saw the man, Lenny had been sure he was his mystery visitor, coming to check up on him, perhaps finish the job that he started with his aunt. But now that he thought about it, he was not the man from the coffee shop. He knew that when he stood up. He knew that the man, Doug Sanders, was what he said he was, an unsuccessful insurance salesman who went door-to-door with a client list he culled from a partnership he had with Lenny’s bank.

Lenny now knew that the man was on the phone with the police and they would arrive in the next thirty minutes. Lenny had plans to make and only a half hour to make them.

Lenny frantically stuffed a few pairs of boxers, some socks, and two pairs of slacks into an overnight bag. He grabbed the money in his emergency stash from the kitchen and packed his purple toothbrush, bubblegum-flavored toothpaste, deodorant, floss and, as a final thought, his cologne. He did not know who he would run into as a fugitive, and he wanted to smell his best. He went to the garage, checked his mail for the last time in what he figured would be a while, and got into his car. Before he got into the car, he did not have a destination in mind, but when he sat behind the wheel, the obvious one came to him. He would go to his aunt’s house. She would not be using it for a while, and he figured nobody would think to check for him there. He also had some investigating to do. If the insurance salesman was not the man from the coffee shop, then perhaps Lenny would find some clues in his aunt’s house as to her assailants. He was now more sure than ever that someone had injured her. He wished his sweater would give him more details, but the most he could get from it was a vague assurance that he was on the right path.

He started the engine and pumped the gas a few times. Lenny began to wonder how the insurance salesman got into his apartment complex. He did not ring him in. And why did he look so similar to the man in the coffee house? He did not have answers to either question, but he trusted in the sweater. It had not steered him wrong since he first wore it three weeks ago. The air in the car had a funny smell. He could not place it, but he rolled down the windows. He probably left some food in the car that he had forgotten about. Lenny had work to do, mysteries to solve, and an assailant to find. But first he needed a burger. Even great detectives worked better on a full stomach. He headed for the closest McDonalds for a happy meal.

Word count: 2,003

Words left: 14,280

Caffeination: tall SOY mocha—I’m experimenting with healthier ways of getting my caffeine dose

Feeling: Yes, yes, I know, the story has gotten completely away from me. I don’t even know what I’m writing anymore, but I figured, if I’m not going to write a good story, I might as well experiment with the style and throw in some strange happenings. I’m feeling much better than yesterday. I’m still having trouble throwing together enough stuff to meet my quota, but I’m getting there. A work of art (or storytelling) it won’t be—but I refuse to give up until I’m at 50k (and probably not that much more). If you want to read a good story, head over to Chuck’s nanowrimo. I’ll get to that quality one of these days. This year, it’s all about quantity. I’ll stop pretending it’s about anything different.