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Schatzie snorted where he laid, his wet nose clouding up the bronze tile with his dismay. Bored brown eyes combed the room for any manner of entertainment - small children to torment, particularly unwary adults, even a fallen crumb or two from the coffee cakes carried away by clumsy patrons. Instead, the dog found an entirely orderly coffee shop with a sparse gathering of people without a baked good in sight. The german shepherd shifted his feet across the floor until they reached his owner’s and halted in their trajectory. His large head pooled on the ground between his front paws. He sighed again.

Alois, however, was not keen to his dog’s behavior. With a handful of books sprawled before him, ranging from old Lovecraft fiction to fringe stories regarded as truth in the town of Ashdown, Alois looked like an occult magazine writer putting together his next article. Instead, his pen went to work scribbling down all manner of supernatural creatures and crossovers he could find. None of them yet matched his experiences, which left him puzzled - he knew he wasn’t the first to discover these idiosyncrasies of the town, so why had no one else written of them?

Schatzie did not care for stories of the supernatural, or the bombastic fictional works of Lovecraft. He wanted attention, and play, and something to nibble off of a tray. He wanted a good time, and he wasn’t finding one beneath the rounded formica bistro table at which his owner sat.

Finally he decided on his own adventure. Getting up, Schatzie spared a look back toward Alois to find him buried in his work, and the dog knew that he could proceed undetected. First he looked this way and that, from the waitress who spared him a favored look to an old man bent over his newspaper in the corner, and found no signs of trouble. He started a patrol then. He kept his steps short. He looked to each face he passed. As he grew bolder, he wandered farther from the table. And when at last he found his next taste of adventure, the dog did not flinch at proceeding to the opposite end of the coffee shop.

He found a Curly Person then, with a Sight Brick in front of him, and Schatzie knew he’d be distracted. In he swooped for the plastic coffee lid sitting next to the steaming cup, and Schatzie transitioned seamlessly into a U-turn with his latest prize in his mouth. Afterward, he walked back to his owner at the same slow, purposeful gait so he could retire with his prize.

Alois was none the wiser.

Being Out-of-the-House was paramount every day, particularly when being a satellite contractor. Leo could work from home every minute of his task, if he wanted. He had the internet to do so and the space was well tended and comfortable. But it was a better investment of time and energy, and keeping tabs on himself as a social creature not aiming to become a neckbeard hermit, to go out during the latter half of the work day for caffeine, fresh air, and a beverage of choice at various coffee shops. Security was paramount- firewall, VPN, autofill passwords, and a fingerprint scan on his laptop, to deal with the Public Wi-Fi.

Emails and Slack were the order of the hour, including an intense five-way scheduling debacle for the microelectronic circuit fabrication labs, where three PhD’s were arguing their seniority to use the equipment over the weekend while the machine owner declared that they could all pull grass because calibrations or some such had to take precedence. Caramel Macchiato set aside, lid removed to allow for a straw to be inserted, he mediated with intense ten-fingered keystrokes until motion Too Near caught the peripheral of his vision.

Leo started, his chair squeaking an inch to the left, and pulled off his headset as a slinking hindquarters retreated proudly away. With what. Why. A dog? Here? What was it...it has something in it’s…

I know that furbutt. And that’s SadStick McStreetFaire. Fancy the Chancy, finding that one again. The Engineer stood, surreptitiously brushing off his jeans, closed his laptop mid-conversation, and paced along after the purloining pooch. He waited until the beast sat down with it’s prize before addressing it with hands on hips, “Rude. Learn some manners and ask before you just take things from other people’s tables. “

Alois unwittingly wormed the butt of his pencil into his mouth again, contributing to the battered termite look that the brittle writing utensil already had, but he hardly noticed it. Chewing away was no great concern while he considered information found. Similarly, he took little notice when his dog finished his patrol and once again laid beneath the table. Did he find something worth commandeering? Alois hardly found it useful to check.

Righteous Indignation pulled him from his thoughts of Other Ashdown when he heard the (notably flamboyant) chastisement of his dog. Alois looked up, pencil still a makeshift cigarette in his mouth, and wondered why exactly someone would bother with his dog.

A foot nudged the back of the pooch vigorously. “Hej. What’d you take.”

The dog responded by not responding. Familiar sounds of tearing plastic ensued.

Alois didn’t bother to look; he already knew the answer. Sighing heavily, the pencil dropped from his face while he buried his head in his hands. “Why are you like this, dog. You are the most defective German Shepherd I’ve ever had…” And why does this guy care that Schatzie just stole the lid of his coffee? They give those out for free. “He’s just…” A hand raised and searched the air for the proper word. “Weird.”

“Weird, cute, and entirely unconcerned both times we’ve met with any of you or your words. On his own missions, alpha style. How about the pair of your names, then, for recompense on my lid? I didn’t expect to see you ever again, but fate or folly….or canine shenanigans seem to be in favor of at least being acquaintances. “ There weren’t any outward signs that the man had recognized Leo, which was fair enough- there was a big difference for any Queen between boy-named life and Lenore’s beaten face for the gods. Contour and color made huge differences, but then so did heels and a dress. “I’m in less fabric this time, but coffee’s not so far off a smoothie. “

“And does he just like plastic lids particularly, or should I be on guard of any of the rest of my gear while he’s visiting the establishment?”

Are you calling me a beta? Miffed, Alois looked from the stranger to his dog. Currently Schatzie chewed away at his newly-claimed prize, teeth gnashing into the plastic in a repetitive crunching conversational backdrop. Again Alois’ foot nudged the dog, this time more vigorously, until he ceased his ribboning of his trophy to issue a whine at his owner. Alois, however, was unimpressed at this development and chastised Schatzie under his breath. The dog responded by sighing and spreading amorphously beneath the table.

“This is Schatzie,” he complied at last, “and his name means precious, or treasure. I did not name him obviously. He’s really only after destroying cheap plastic. Just be careful he doesn’t knock your drink onto your phone.” Expertly slipping a shoe off, Alois rubbed the top of the dog’s head with a black socked foot. Schatzie appeared entirely unphased, and even enjoyed the act. “I am Alois Scholz. Taxidermist and mediocre dog trainer.

“I don’t…” Alois’ eyes narrowed, and he paused to search memory banks for the apparent key words of less fabric and smoothie. Schatzie’s misbehavior was similarly on display, according to the stranger, but Alois recalled no instances. He met a drag queen once who wanted a smoothie, but they didn’t really look to be the same person. Siblings maybe, or they bought the same wild red wigs or something. “Who are you and how have we met?” He asked at last, burrowing the butt of the battered pencil into his left temple.

“Leo Alvey, Engineer and sometimes serving fish as Queen, Lenore Onadoor. Schatzie was mostly ignoring everyone to plow through the crowd at the last gallery night-festival-promenade in this strange sleepy place.” The small affections- I wonder if it was you after all to name ‘Precious’ instead of something else. Treating something dear loosely so as not to endanger it? Maybe. Or just that casual, after all, with affections and a good instinct for making them seem really genuine.

“Makeup and nylons make a big difference. You probably don’t recognize me.”

“Is he a working dog?” Leo offered out a hand for shaking over formal introductions. There was no doggie vest or particularly eyesore-colored collars evident, but that might mean just mena off duty. Taxidermy was interesting as a lolisted profession. Is there really enough play for that to viably make money anymore? Well….I suppose it must. There was that bit in the news about that Old Lion. Cecil? Some other name? So people are still out there killing for sport. They’d all want ‘em stuffed and mounted as stand ins for their priapisms.

A brow cocked at the mention of fish queen, and Alois retired his pencil to the table. “Is that supposed to be a colloquialism? Serving fish as queen?” Offhand, he wrote the phrase down, underlined, and added a question mark in the margins of his notes.

“You’re right, I don’t recognize you. I just thought you bought the same wig.” Now I know what to do if I want no one to recognize me. Ever. Or respect me for that matter. “Is that something that happens often? Or a soon-to-be permanent thing? I’ve not met a transvestite before.” He wondered if that was supposed to be an offensive term now. But what else did he have to use? Drag queen sounded no better. There were worse, of course, often hurled out the window by offended drivers when he was in the street, or by others speculating on his sexual preferences.

The subject change to canine left him in more familiar grounds, however. “The only ‘working’ Schatzie does is digging holes in every potted plant he can find. He doesn’t have the disposition for it; I normally just take him out with me when we both go stir-crazy. Or when I want 120 pounds of dog between myself and others.

“You don’t have to keep standing.” He motioned toward the chair before him, despite its proximity to the dog. “If you’re going to stick around, then I have a stranger question for you.”

” Listen to you with the fancy-big words, “ But Leo’s smile and tone were genial. “Are you off the boat, then? No, it isn’t colloquial, it’s slang. Colloquialisms can contain slang, though. One of those not all squares are rectangles sort of things. It’s specific language to the drag community, and the gender/sexuality initialism. Starting off wanting explanations about whether I’m trans is a little forward, just so you know. “

Since it was offered, and Schatzie wasn’t a working dog who could be interrupted and distracted any more than the plastic cup lid had entailed, Leo pulled up the seat. He turned his legs away to the side from being in Schatzie’s immediate space, just the same, to avoid fur or enticing the animal to physical contact. “Occasional performer. Transvestite has connotations of sexual fetishism, and I don’t do it so much in private for sexual kicks. I’m a Drag Queen. Entertainment and self-expression, not gender identity or kink. I’m a man, I enjoy being a man. Lenore is a character I put on as a hobby to entertain others, who I enjoy very much. But she’s still a character made up as much as any actor on stage. “

Being invited to the seat was interesting and welcome- a difference from many who became awkward, stuttered, and didn’t want the company of a queer. It meant Mr. Scholz could have manners, possibly didn’t care about such things. ‘Scholz an’ Schatzie,’ that’s just adorable how the names go together.

“What was the question?”

Alois grunted in recognition of Leo’s explanations. The pencil in hand fell tip-first onto a page before he righted it and dropped it again, eraser first. The small procession continued absentmindedly while he considered offered explanation.

At last he decided he would fumble around with the terms for a time if Leo ever became a more recurring fixture in his life. The town was terribly small - he imagined that finding Leo or Lenore again just skirted inevitability. He did not return the smile, however, as was the goth way. “I see. I didn’t know it was a stage performance.” Perhaps longstanding entertainers like Axl Rose would frown to know that he’s no different from drag queens. “So why don’t I know the names of any famous drag queens? I can name comedians, rock stars, and actors similarly, but not drag queens. Besides the obvious…” His right hand Circled the air in a failed attempt to catch words. “What is it… It’s LSBT but it’s not. Whatever the gay rights is called here. Or is America being homophobes the only reason I don’t know any drag queen names.

“My question is a different kind of serious. Since you moved to Ashdown, have you had any strange dreams?” He did not clarify any further, and none of the texts before him suggested the psychology behind dreams. He bit his tongue in the natural want to explain the background of his question, and waited for a response.

Schatzie, meanwhile, chewed his plastic lid to a desperate state and now resorted to hockey pucking the two halves between large paws. Once he shot one of the pieces toward Leo’s leg, which he soon reclaimed clumsily. The magic ended, however, and with a great grunt the beast raised himself and exited from beneath the table, beginning his search for another of the elusive plastic toys.

“Do you know the names of any famous Sport Fisherman? I’d wager not, but they are famous in their circles, have television shows and fan followings all the same. But really, you probably know a couple of the most famous Queens: RuPaul, Divine, even Europe’s own Conchita Wurst from Austria just won the Eurovision contest two years ago. Eurovision has a helluva viewership, even if you don’t subscribe. “ The actual Question, with a capital letter, was bizarre and unexplained. Possibly for control reasons to some experiment also left unexpressed.

“I’ve not had anything untoward since moving here specifically. I’m from Boston, which isn’t very far away, and only transferred to here maybe a year ago since it was still commuter’s convenience of distance. Is that a good or a bad thing, for your reckoning? Are you-” The furbeast was on the move again.

“Just going to let him go off and steal another from someone?” Leo watched the puffy brown and black butt recede among the tables. Behold the masterful training and control over the dog. Boy’s gotta be a bottom even if he likes girls.

“Conchita Wurst, yes, but not the others.” Alois shrugged. “As entertainers, I expected I would know some. Or, more than one.” He supposed he could add Lenore Onadoor to that remarkably short list, though she(?) was not famous.

Alois’ gaze tracked the dog lazily while the two loaves of bread that comprised his bum meandered away.A finger and thumb framed his face. “Of course I am. It’s good entertainment - for him and I. You won’t believe how many people get worked up over losing a free piece of plastic to a dog. And if I get kicked out for it, that’s more entertainment for me.” He eyed Leo for a response. “It’s not hurting anything to steal another one.”

The lack of strange dreams was a disappointment, though still unsurprising. “If we keep running into each other, let me know when something comes up.” Leo’s name went into a second column on one of Alois’ notebooks.

“I am curious,” he started before he finished writing, “why drag?” As he finished the question, his gaze met Leo.

“Entertainers- can you name many famous puppeteers? Kabuki actors? Performance Cellists? Most get to Yo-Yo Ma, one name, and then they’re done for. Doesn’t mean there aren’t others, but if you don’t make it a point going to lots of concerts and studying music, if it wasn’t your bag, you wouldn’t know others. You don’t give impression of moving in circles where you’d learn the names of Drag Queens, famous or not.” Like sports fishers. Apparently that comparison didn’t make it across the language barrier. And neither did the point about asking personal questions straight off? Or, more likely on that point, just doesn’t care? Sounds more likely from someone who gets their kicks purely out of spite. Do you really think this is ‘worked up’, sweetheart? Reacting at all must be damn mystifying. Whatever, honey. I get enough of that boring, ‘adult’, serious-like-the-grave-B.S. And I don’t have time for someone who doesn’t care about what I’m saying, other than a lark, either. Well, it was something different for a few minutes.

“ Why Goth and a Moon tan? ” Leo stood, winking at the new acquaintance as he pushed his chair in. “If I run into you again, and I have some crazy dream, I will. “

“ Unless you felt like giving out your number, which would increase the likelihood. Of communication, that is.”

”What I meant is that performance cellists, puppeteers, even kabuki actors are somewhat expected in their respective countries. I don’t think it’s common to notice a pro fisherman when he’s just out and about, but… Drag makes a statement visually. It’s just surprising to me that, despite that, it still follows the same anonymity as those performance cellists. For such a visual culture, a visual hobby should take higher recognition.” The pencil returned to mouth and he chewed thoughtfully as he brewed his next answer.

“You’re right. I don’t run in those circles. I don’t run in any circles. I have my dog and that’s it.” Alois’ tone remained carefully neutral. “It’s not a dislike of those circles. I don’t know where to find them.”

The retort of goth and moontan left Alois the impression of a rhetorical question, and Alois tightened his teething on the pencil until it incidentally snapped. Startled by the sudden burst of splinters, Alois spat the pieces back onto his page. Copious nailed combings of his tongue followed. “Right, numbers.” Wincing at the taste of graphite and wood, he fished for his wallet in back pocket. Quickly he procured a die-cast card, slate grey, with gold minimalist lettering proclaiming ‘mount me’ as his business. Beneath it read A. Scholz, along with the hours, location, and cell phone number for prospective clients.

“Do me a favor and don’t give it out at parties.”

Talking to someone with a pencil in their mouth was awkward enough, socially, but the startle in breaking, and the furious finger combing of a tongue in public took the situation from strange into the sublime. Here was an ostensibly grown man who actually bit through a pencil out of nerves, oral fixation, or some other such while out in public. It went with the Goth image and the admission of no circles very well in painting an impression Mr. Alois Scholz that the light-up night hadn’t had much to offer on: Social deviant, probably not very well adjusted by way of having at least two or three kinds of baggage to drag along into any social interaction. Probably unmedicated and undiagnosed. Well...let’s not be too hasty in the write-off, though. He’s different, and that’s fact. Awkward ducks aren’t always bad ones. Just needs a swimming pool of black ink, instead of manicured, clear water. And look at that business card. Glad to know my instincts aren’t wholly off kilter. Boy’s thirsty in all the ways, and probably doesn’t even know enough to figure out what he wants to unwind a little.

“Not a trouble. The parties I attend would take this too literally, I’m afraid. Why should I invite competition? Well. If you’re ever overnight a weekend in Boston, Google is a good starting place to look for the alternative-friendly clubs. Good luck to you and Schatzie, Mr. Scholz with research and plastic. “