Hurt Me Daddy, for I Have Blogged

Rumor had it. Dalene shifted in the booth, and adjusted the usual neon green-and-black beanie."I heard he was in town this week." She, of course, meant Danny Downer. The famed owner of Danny's Diner. Now a major franchise operation. He was the original. And theirs was the original Danny's. Location Number One. Now a receptacle for late-night Urban Shaman escapades. "It probably was a rumor. That guy is super reclusive. We'll never see him," responded Gabe, Danny Downer had been influential in the local Hellcore scene twenty years earlier. He'd started with extreme stage shows, but eventually retreated behind minimal beats, laptops and aviator shades. Mr. Downer was often stylish in a trenchcoat and striking in a suit, but usually preferred professorial sportcoats with patches on the elbows. His profuse collarbone tattoos still displayed wherever he went. Once hairspray-ravaged hair was either buzzed and gently spiked or occasionally in a discre...

There was going to be no Danny's Diner tonight. At least not for a while. An incredibly, exhaustingly long while. Gabe had decided to take Dalene on a ridealong during his dayjob. Which was really his night job. But so it was for most Night Towners. Unless they converted. Today it was neon green socks for Dalene. "Real cute," said Gabe, as she rolled into the passenger's seat. "I never know when you're being serious with that stuff." "Does it always have to be a thing? Is bickering always necessary? I just wonder why you dress like a sixteen-year-old lesbian raver sometimes." "This is a great start," low-toned Dalene. The two were quiet for about 10 minutes following that. Dalene crossed her arms and leaned her temple near the window, and Gabe gently turned up the dubstep for the ride. Gabe's day-night job was to use a special GPS placement device to detect billboard placement for a major company in the area. Each place...