Secrets On Bayshore Boulevard

The Sparrow stood in the fog, his trench coat swaying in the stiff breeze. He could smell the salt coming on that breeze, off of the bay. He put his hands in the pockets of the black coat, attempting to avoid the cold. He pulled the coat tighter around him, felt for his pack of smokes and pulled one out. He was lighting it as a man began to materialize out of the thick fog.

The man stood before The Sparrow, his own trench coat cinched tight with a stylish belt. The man lit a cigarette of his own and squinted at The Sparrow through the darkness.

"It always rains on a parade," the man cryptically said.

The sparrow took a deep drag off his cigarette, dropped it to the ground and let loose a jet stream of smoke.

"But on the bright side, Denny's has a great deal on the Grand Slam Breakfast right now."

The man nodded. "Sparrow? They call me Ribbon Maker."

"Do you have it?" The Sparrow asked. He spoke calmly, but he could barely contain his excitement.

The Ribbon Maker pulled an envelope from the pocket of his trench coat.

"The recipe for Andy's 'Secret Sauce'," he began to hand over the envelope, but as The Sparrow reached for it, he quickly pulled it back. "You have something for me I believe."

The Sparrow reached into the blue backpack that sat at his feet and pulled out a small figurine. The Ribbon Maker's eyes widened.

"Is that? Really?" The Ribbon Maker stuttered.

"Yes, it's the Secret Squirrel. The very Secret Squirrel that the Sons of Marvin protected with their very lives. The very Secret Squirrel that was the actual cause of the skirmish in the Falkland Islands. And now it goes to you and your people."

The two men traded their goods. The Ribbon Maker stared down at the Secret Squirrel with eyes full of wonder. The Sparrow put the envelope in his pocket and shouldered his bag.

"Now I have to find my way back across the line and into the city," The Sparrow said with a weary sigh.

"Do they have the border blocked? I mean that would be weird to cut off San Francisco from South San Francisco."

"No, it's just my car broke down."

"Oh, well there's a Samtrans stop just like a block up from here. You can jump on and it should take you to like Market Street."

"Cool. Punch it in."

The two men tapped fists before separating and disappearing into the foggy night.


Rocktober song of the day: Queer by Garbage.