Griffin Krebb

Griffin stood at the bar of the Opera House and eyed his triple Jack Daniels. He had only actually paid for a single, but the barman was his friend, a sharp kid named Keitaro, who always looked after Griffin’s needs like the professional he was. The two had become friends because Keitaro actually believed the wild stories that Griffin told.

Those stories concerned what happened when he went to sleep. Like most people he dreamed, but Griffin was convinced that his dreams weren’t actually dreams. In them he visited a strange place very far away and spoke to someone who told him him stories of unimaginable things. The “dreams” occurred every night and had been doing so for the past year. They had brought him here to Gunbridge Bells, far from his former home in the States. Fortunately, winning the Michigan State Lottery had also made this possible.

It was nearly 2:30 and soon Keitaro would be on his break and the two of them could talk for a few minutes and maybe go upstairs to see Professor Rauch in the lab. He treasured his time with the young man. It was rare that anyone actually listened to the tales Griffin spun. Even his best mates, Todd and Rex, only humoured him. Was that why he had lied to them about where he lived?

But now that he thought about it, there was someone else who said he believed Griffin’s stories. Who was that? Someone he’d met in The Cloven Skull, the pub below his flat in The Pants? Yes. When was that? Last night? Yes, that was it! The cook! He’d met the man in The Skull last night after about 12 Jackie Ds and promised to meet him today. But when? Oh fuck, it was now! He’d promised to meet the man at 2:30!

Griffin downed his drink in one gulp, said a swift goodbye to Keitaro and bolted out the door. As he made his way to the Town Centre tunnel stairs, he desperately tried to remember the man’s name. Some Germanic name like Gerhard or something. He couldn’t remember. Oh well, it hardly mattered. He took the stairs two at a time.