It was windy outside, but not that cold yet, but then it was only early November, there was plenty of time for true winter to set in, and my coat had a pretty warm lining.
I walked down to Queen Street and was ready to try another bit of jay walking when I saw that something was missing off the corner of Boscoe and Queen. And I smiled. Not sure what happened to him, but it really seemed like that zombie panhandler who had occupied the since the spring had finally disappeared. And along with the skin and bones dog he’s been using to gain sympathy from the street crowd.
Maybe my complaints to the city had finally born fruit. Although I couldn’t have been the only one to bitch about the thing. The begging dead had even gotten worse over the summer as his decay got a bit, shall we say malodorous? Nah, Let’s just say putrid. Sure, that kind of reanimation was practically anaerobic according to science, which is why things like him now dominated the cheap labor market, but that didn’t stop the weeks of thirty degree heat and general environmental odors from sinking into him, not to mention starting to melt what was left of him off his corpse.
And no, it had not a pretty sight.
Well, the city works slow but it finally gets to where it’s needed.
The early afternoon traffic was stop and go, so I was able to sidle between a couple of imports and make my way to my favorite bar, MacGuffin’s. Sure, Irish franchise pub fare isn’t the best in the city, but this place was the shortest distance between my office and draft imported beer. I wasn’t going to complain about how generic the place was franchise why.
When I stepped inside, I wasn't surprised to see that there weren’t very many patrons in the place this time of day. A couple guys at the bar, more closer to the back and a trio playing pool. About as you’d expect for a Thursday afternoon.
LCDs, oddly enough was set to local news. A change of pace. Bruce usually has one of the national networks on. I sidled up to the bar and ordered a Pastornicky, then I quickly ordered a second one. Figured the math and the general health of my liver and thought, the quicker I do this, maybe have a couple more and let my system do its work, I should be fine by the time I need to hit the road.
The pair I joined at the bar nodded at me as I took a stool, which wasn't too surprising as I recognize both of them. They were regulars, one of them was even a tenant, seventeenth floor I remembered, at 23 Pangbourne, and had been there long before I had. Like, decades.
“Hey Frank, hey Bill,” I greeted them, “How are things?”
Frank smiled and Bill waved, Frank said hello, and Bill grumbled something and only spared me a quick glance, he was more interested in the big screen above the bar.
Bruce dropped a couple napkins on the bar, placed my two first pints on them, gave me a quick smile as he did.
I smiled back, turned to Frank and Bill.
“So what's going on guys,” I asked, downing a good gulp of the Pastornicky. Hopefully, he didn’t have 23 on heavy rotation above us.
“How’s the thing with all those cops,” Bill asked as he shook his head at my questions.. “Tried to find out what the big deal was, but there pretty tight lipped. What was it? a drug deal gone bad? A vampire on the loose?”
I took a long drink from my first pint.
“Sorry, can’t really talk about it either,” I told him. “But it looks like it wasn’t anything you guys have to worry about.”
At least I hoped it wasn’t.
“Suicide then” Frank decided.
“Cops haven’t made a decision on that either.” I told them. “Just think it’s suspicious.”
And that it was.
I took another drink. Almost finished, called for Bruce to get me another.
“Three beer suspicious?” Bill wondered with pair of raised white eyebrows.
I was starting to get a buzz. Good stuff this was.
“It’s always a headache when a tenant dies,” I told him. “I can tell you that he wasn’t exactly keeping his flat up to specs. That’s as far as I can go.”
Bill nodded.
“So what is the big deal Frank,” I asked. “What’s got you glued to the TV?”
“Oh, he’s all into the city elections” offered Bill. “Election season. Shit.”
“Oh,” I tried.
“Moron’s are gonna vote for Worthington, they are gonna vote for the dead guy,” Bill announced to the rest of the bar. “The dead are gonna be running the city soon. So much for Toronto the good.”
I nodded, they're talking about the election. Local city stuff, how much do care about really? Except for the fact that the leading candidate in our neck of the woods wasn't among the living, mostly. Although I have to point out that his debating style was significantly more animate than his opponents.
I took another drink.
“What does it matter,” said Frank, “They're all politicians, dead or alive. And at least the dead guy is thinking about what happens to us after we're gone. Or not so gone...”
“Or maybe you're going to be still here, and get to be one of his walking dead constituents” offered Bill. “And I ain't coming back. No siree. I ain't gonna be shuffling around the rest of eternity as one of the freaking things like that.”
He pointed at the street. There was a zombie standing there looking in. Another shiver spiked up my shine. Was the thing looking at me?
“You spend all day and night watching that reality shit,” Frank replied to Bill as he nursed his own half-drunk beer. ‘How do you know you’re not one of them already?”
