I know most of the people down here in the Keys, especially here in Key West. I'm not talking about knowing too many tourists, no, I'm talking about the "local yokels", the "natives", and the "lounge lizards"--those types. I guess being here myself for awhile has something to do with that, doesn't it?

I had long since given up on the notion that the world revolved around me; it had taken awhile, but I had done it. I figured that whole purpose in the grand cosmic scheme of things was to make people happy. What better way to be, right? All those people with the straw hats that they bought from the little Cuban merchants on the corner, the "I'm going to slip off for a weekend" warriors of the respectable stratum of the world, and the I-just-absolutely-HAVE-to-get-drunker-than-I-have-ever-been-before spring break college kids--these were the people that I liked to see happy. I love the Keys, and I want them to enjoy themselves here in my little castle island in paradise.

Yes, I had been pretty fulfilled, or so I had thought until it happened. I really don't know what to call that moment when my life changed one hundred percent, but I do remember something about what Mahi-Mahi used to blabber about while stuffing his face with that fish. He used to ramble on about a Muse and how it was this thing, this spirit or something that used to inspire those old Greek guys to write "sceptic" poetry. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. You haven't heard of that "sceptic" poem about condoms, "Trojan" by some guy named Homey? Well, I read it a long time ago, so take my word for it that the Muse works in mysterious ways to get its point across.

I know that Mahi-Mahi isn't going buy this story; he's too...well, too like me sometimes. I bet that freaky chick Raven will believe it; she seems like the type to go to a seance or three. I just hope that people don't think that I'm crazy. Should I tell? Or should I just keep my mouth shut?