Page 7 of The Totally Typical Tale of Mappy McMapface (Ghostlight Falls #1)
Chapter six
Kyle's Bar
Miguel
I really wish Mabel would’ve warned me there was a fucking frog orgy happening in The Wonder Hole.
I had heard the frogs in town. How can you not?
But it’s completely different being there as it happens.
Loudly. So fucking loudly. I don’t understand the acoustics of that place, but it’s like surround sound at max volume no matter where you go.
It’s inescapable. I was so ready to leave when the bus finally rolled up.
Turns out Bigfoot does live here. Or at least a Bigfoot look-alike does. Because he was on my bus. Hard not to stare, but I did my best .
When I hop off at the Visitors’ Bureau, I’m disappointed that a certain map isn’t present, but I guess even a map has to end his workday at some point.
Unsure what to do with myself now, I walk over to the bar, figuring I can at least grab a beer before heading to my rental for the evening.
After all, the sun is still out, and I am not that pathetic.
I suddenly get the feeling someone’s watching me.
Turning slowly, not-so-secretly hoping Mappy has returned, my stomach sinks when there’s no one around.
At least that’s what I think at first. A small man in a trench coat and a hat is peering at me from behind a dumpster in the same alley I found Mappy.
He’s in the shadows, so it’s hard to make out his features exactly, but his face is wide, wider than any person I have ever seen.
It scrunches in when he catches me staring at him, and he moves behind the dumpster. Weird.
A few drinks later, I stumble out of Kyle’s.
Everyone in the bar was so welcoming. When a couple of players from the local baseball team stopped by, the whole bar broke out into cheers, yelling “Balls!” at the top of their lungs.
The energy was so infectious, I found myself chanting and joining them for a drink.
Or two. Maybe more. It seems like such a great place to live.
I could see myself settling down here with a certain bat-map-man.
Nope . Not going down that road. That’s the alcohol talking.
Looking up and down the street, I try to find the signs to make my way home.
It’s not too complicated, but I am not at my best and could really use some assistance.
I know I head down the street, away from the Visitors’ Bureau for a couple of blocks, and then it’s just a couple of turns after that.
The only problem is that as I continue walking, there are no signs.
None. The houses look familiar, but also all kind of similar, so I’m not sure if I’m supposed to turn at this block or the next.
Where are the fucking street signs? They were here when I left this morning.
Well, this isn’t going to work. I’ll never find my way back like this. Turning around, I head back to Kyle’s, figuring someone from town might be able to guide me home. There’s really only one person I want to take back to my place tonight, though, and he’s nowhere to be found.
Luckily, a nice dog-cat-monkey-man is on his way out and offers to drive me home.
I honestly can’t figure out what he is, but he seems nice enough, even if he isn’t wearing pants.
Is it rude to ask someone what they are here?
Does everyone just know? Whatever he is, he’s attractive.
Super muscular with a backwards baseball hat.
If I weren’t so distracted by my bat-map, I’d be interested in him with his accent and lip ring, especially as he cracks jokes and flirts on the drive.
Despite my inability to give more than just the vaguest description of where I’m staying, he’s able to drop me off without a problem.
Says his buddy hooked him up with some state-of-the-art GPS thing.
Crawling into bed alone, I wonder what it would be like to be cuddled by those big bat wings.
Yes, the guy stood me up, but he also seemed genuinely sorry about it.
Maybe I should give him the benefit of the doubt?
At least while I’m here. If things go wrong, I can always leave Ghostlight Falls in the rearview mirror.