I went out yesterday for St. Patty's Day with HLP and Jumper, and we ended up at Duffy's, a bar that used to be our hangout when we were the age of the people who still go there. Sometimes we get feeling drunk and all powerful and invincible and think we need to go back to our old school spots. Yes, we felt like the chaperones in that joint, but we still had fun.
There used to be a middle aged Black guy at Duffy's who was always wearing a giant white fur coat. I thought for sure he was a pimp, but Jumper talked to him all the time and got a business card from him. Turns out he sold those awesome coats, or maybe that was just his front for the IRS and he really was a pimp-daddy. Who knows.
I got wondering what happened to old Percy, so straight away I asked our waitress, and she said "Who the fuck is Percy?" I wasn't going to quit there. I asked a few more folks, and no one had any clue what I was talking about. I was on the case now, canvassing the joint for information like Columbo. Jumper Houdini'd out of the bar suddenly, so now it was up to HLP and myself to find Percy's whereabouts. I thought I had a good lead when I saw a 40-something looking guy who was there by himself trying to mack on the dance floor. He said he comes in there all the time, and he looked to be around Percy's age, but even he didn't know our furry friend. Damn it!
If you have any information leading to tracking down Percy, I'm offering a reward, maybe a fur coat or a vodka Red Bull, but not top shelf, we're talking well here.