Leg(work) day

I used my finding spell on Evan and Freddie’s friend.  It’s not like remote viewing or clairvoyance.  When it works, I just know where I need to go.  You ever see one of those little weird buildings that could be an auto body shop or an exterminator or a place saying they can fix your phone screen?  But then you find out it’s actually some kind of bar/club?  A place like that in Havana (not Cuba) is where my spell told me to go.

An odd place to be at 8 in the morning but no big deal right?  I had a feeling that wasn’t the case.  Instead of telling Evan and Frankie, I drove out there.  There wasn’t much to see from the outside.  I was playing over various break-in scenarios in my mind when I realized it’s a fucking club.  Just wait until it’s open and go in.  I watch too many action movies.  In real life you don’t break into places.

I did the spell again 12 hours later and it directed me to the same place.  I took another drive out there during “business” hours.  There were a half dozen cars and a couple bikes parked on the “lawn”.  What do you call it when there’s no grass?  Just property I guess.  People were sitting around drinking beer and listening to some awful music.  Swamp metal or some shit. 

I walked up and said that my car had broken down and my phone was dead.  It wasn’t a very good plan.  Someone sitting outside just said they’d call a tow truck.  My idea was to be invited in to look around but there probably isn’t even an old phone inside.  While I was waiting, I asked them what this place was.  They said it was a private club.  When I asked how you get invited to a private club, a dude with a rat-tail and a denim vest said “sodomy” and slapped me on the ass. 

I picked up an empty beer bottle and said “Great, pop those knickers off and let’s jam”.  That got a lot of laughs.  I’m the last person who should be trying to infiltrate any kind of social hierarchy but I know how these groups operate.  I knew right then that denim vest was a hanger-on and therefore an acceptable target for abuse.

Identifying and whipping the designated whipping boy doesn’t get you “in” but it’s a good icebreaker.  They deigned to let me hang around waiting for the tow truck.  Occasionally denim vest would try to come back at me but I always turned it around on him.  Not because I’m great at that sort of thing but because he was so inarticulate and thin-skinned that it was easy.  The madder he got the more his “friends” laughed it up. 

My last gambit when the tow truck showed up was to ask if I could use the bathroom.  I was told to use the bushes. 

Anyone reading this is probably thinking “why didn’t you just ask where Evan’s friend was?”  That would be the logical thing to do.  But I don’t think logic is what’s needed here.

I just have a feeling.

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