Tag Archives: mural

Huff Puff Pant

It wasn’t long before Frank was huffing, puffing and uttering what sounded like words. Somewhere behind him but not far enough he could still hear “wait I just want to warn you”.

“I’ve got, pant pant, to get, pant pant, into better shape,” gasped Frank.

As shapes go Frank was heading to that of a donut, if the baker forgot the hole and the donut had chain smoked for 20 years before quitting. Somewhere in the middle of panting and moving his legs, albeit slowly, he had a thought that made him suddenly stop.

Perhaps, gasp, my soon, gasp, to be assailant, gasp, will just put me out, gasp, of my misery. Wait, warn me?Even his thoughts had to catch their breath and the “warn me” part arrived at a slower pace. Bent over and gasping for breath, Frank spied an ant going about the business of effortlessly dragging a relatively huge grain of rice. Show off,he thought.

The sound of footsteps were now much closer and Frank rose and turned around to meet his nemesis and then perhaps his maker with the “warn me” phrase still lingering. His vision came in to focus and just a few feet away was Trustafarian Thad, er, Sticks.

“I’m glad I caught up to you Mr. Bronski”

Frank noticed Sticks wasn’t breathing very hard and thought, he is a bit younger and thinner.

He also assumed that Stick’s herb smoking had not reached “chain” status. Frank took a minute or ten and caught up with his breathing.

“Not too tough to do kid, Usain Bolt I am not.”

“Who? Oh that running dude.”

“Yea, that running dude,” gasped Frank.

After catching up to his breath Frank continued.

“What is so important that you had to force me to exercise?”

“Those guys that forced you to relocate were around asking about you.”

“That’s not good.”
“Yea I thought you’d like to know.”

“Thanks Sticks I appreciate that.”

Sticks stood there patiently and Frank read the situation correctly.”

“Sticks I could use your help digging up any information you can find on the underpass mural. I am finding plenty of information online, all of it sketchy. If I could get some information from anyone you know on the street I might be able to sort through some of it quicker. I would appreciate it.” Franks appreciation came in the form of a twenty, albeit not so crisp, dollar bill. He still had some money left over from his first case. Sticks took the bill, gave a smile, said “Thanks man. I’ll ask around,”and was gone.

Frank decided to wander around for a while to make sure Sticks hadn’t picked up a tail before heading back to the utility bunker. His circuitous route verified that no one was following him and he returned to his humble man cave.

It really hadn’t achieved official man cave status. He was going to have to figure out how to get TV reception in what amounted to a concrete bunker. If he figured that out he would have to see if he could come up with a small battery powered TV. He interpreted “come up with” in as loose and cheep manner as possible. He might know a guy who knew a guy who could find items that had fallen off a truck. At this point he was going to chill and figure out what his next move was but he was slowly coming to the conclusion his past was going to have to be reconciled with and sooner rather than later.

Boulder Noir: Shadow Guy

Everything remained dark and judging from the thunk of his landing and the surrounding aroma he’d be willing to bet he was back in a dumpster. Somehow the familiarity gave him comfort. What is it with dumpsters and this guy.

“Hello Shadow Guy?” he whispered.

Nothing, not a sound.

“Hmm, well I guess he assumed I’d be ok. I am a hard boiled detective after all,” he thought trying to convince himself.

Then convincing turned to pondering. And people said he wasn’t a deep thinker.

His first case has morphed into a multitude of problems, mysteries really.

Mystery sounded much better than problem. It seemed to have less stress associated with it.

The first mystery was where was he going to sleep tonight after this clean sneak.

It was pretty clean he thought. He left nothing behind. He even cleaned his finger prints off the doorknobs and other obvious places.

It’s too damn cold to sleep outside without warmer clothes, and a blanket, and a fire and a roof….

The next mystery is who the heck was after him? He thought he had that narrowed down a bit. All the people that would be upset at him originated with that little issue about missing merchandise and he knew who was at the beginning of that line.

The third mystery was , wait, there is a fourth but that can wait.

The third is the question that started this whole adventure in the first place.

His first case. Is Mr Steven Simpson stepping out on the missus? He’ll just need to get in touch with the trustafarian that followed him so he can verify his place of employment and possible after work activities. The fourth and not the least important is who or what the heck is this shadow guy? For now he’ll assume he is a good guy because he’s saved his bacon a few times.

Now he had to get down to brass tacks. He could probably find a flop house who’s proprietor he did not recognize. Not a guarantee that he won’t get rousted but it’s too cold to expect a guarantee. There was still a one lingering thought in the back of his mind.

“Who is that shadow guy?”

It was time to find a safe warm place to sleep. He was getting too familiar with dumpsters.

Just north of downtown Boulder, there exists a bike/walking trail meandering through an underpass festooned with a mural. The mural is an homage to the nature around it. In one corner of the mural appeared a new addition out of place with the rest of the mural. Surrounded by mountains was a lone silhouette, a shadow perhaps, of a figure sporting a fedora.