There are few yet living who know of this place. I am one of those and I know the place better than any. I won't tell you where it is, nor would any others who know. It is better that way. You'll just have to trust me on this.
I had not heard that name for decades. It has been fifteen years since I've had any news of any of this odd fraternity. Our numbers were reduced to fewer than ten at that date. It would be a safe wager to figure that number reduced to only five or six now. This is why it was so jarring to hear the name spoken in the course of overhearing casual conversation.
It was at a Denny's in Ft.Wayne, Indiana. There were two of those man-bun types in an adjacent booth. Nothing remarkable about them, just another pair of thirty-something hipsters wearing Vans and reminiscing upon their high water mark when the Super-Nintendo console was released. I had been on the road for a week, in pursuit of an enigmatic and elusive quarry. This was by far the most extreme and stressing case I had been on since my expose on Agent Mueller.
All of the intel kept pointing to Markle. There was every angle imaginable covered by some form of surveillance and thousands of assets on the ground. Two days passed. Nothing. A lot of false sightings, but no paydirt. A third day passed. I knew they had slipped this noose. Maybe gone to ground somewhere, but this Markle exercise was going nowhere. So I headed up Route 1 back into Ft.Wayne, hopped on the 469 bypass and exited at the first Denny's sign I saw.
The Superbird was not so super that night. My waitress, Inez, was the highlight of the experience. She had an ass you could break eggs on. I was idly pushing the remains of my meal about the plate while musing over a crossword I'd left unfinished from breakfast. 33 down, five letters. Starts with the letter V. Clue: office seekers, often.
From the next booth I had heard the low mumble of conversation, with an occasional outburst of laughter or laudatory exclamations of "Dude!". And then I heard one of them say, "Hey bro, I was talking with these dudes and they said they were headed for Woolly Booger..." Vapid! Of Course! That was the word.
Did he say Woolly Booger? I heard the question quite audible in my head and then likewise affirmed, yes he had most certainly said Woolly Booger. I looked over this young man a little more carefully. I judged him to be about thirty-two. Going on fifteen. He was too young. He couldn't possibly know. Where and from whom had he heard the name of the place? Of course there were much broader implications here, but I needed the answer from bun boy first. At the first opportunity I flagged Inez and settled my check, taking a final warm up on my coffee.
I made a more focused scan of the bun boy's booth. Still quite a bit of food. Three tall, empty glasses of what I was fairly certain to have been sweet tea. These fellas were not in any hurry and neither was I. I had enough time to nurse that coffee and wait for nature to take it's course. And surely, in due time bun boy had to excuse himself. Conveniently the men's room was on the way to the exit. I rose after him and discreetly stalked toward the exit. Once the door to the men's room had swung shut behind him I turned to follow. Once inside I jammed the door with a handy little wedge device I carry for just such occasions.
The stalls, urinals, sinks...everything was to the left. The approach was easy. There was bun boy with his 401s unbuttoned, hosing the porcelain shrine. He never saw or heard a thing until I had crushed his face into the wall above the urinal.
"Hey! What the fuck, man!"
"Shut up! You see those words stamped on that flush valve?"
"What?"
"On the stainless steel, on top of the urinal! Read 'em!"
"Royal...Sloan ....valve?"
"That's it son, keep your eyes right there!"
"Who the fuck are you, man?"
"Not important. What is Woolly Booger?"
"What? Woolly...."
"Don't bullshit me asshole! I heard you say it. Where did you hear Woolly Booger? Who told you?"
"Just some dudes, man. I don't know their names, okay? These guys used to run with that black motorcycle gang up in Gary. They got a place out by Rochester where I go pick up speed from them. There's a old white dude, a chemist. Crazy Jay...never met him, but that's the only name I ever heard, I swear!"
"What did they say?"
"Huh?"
"About Woolly Booger, moron. I want to know exactly what you heard."
"Look man, I don't even know these dudes' names, okay? I just got a burner number..."
"I don't care about that. I'm not DEA. I just want to know exactly what you heard about Woolly Booger."
"Okay! Okay... I saw my dude for my pick up two days ago. They were talking about Crazy Jay....said Crazy Jay told them that the Kevin dude from Deaf Kids had come by in the middle of the night. They said that Kevin told Jay they were headed for Woolly Booger. That's all I know. I swear."
I looked down at the puddle of piss at his feet. He was telling the truth.
"Alright. Here's what you're gonna do friend. You're gonna keep your eyes on that valve while you button yourself up. I want you to read Royal Sloan Valve out loud ten times. Then you can wash your hands and go back to your booth. And don't say anything else about Woolly Booger. Got it?"
"Got it."
"Okay, start reading."
I was out the door and into my truck before bun boy made it back to his booth. He didn't know anything other than some name he heard second hand. From some guy he had only heard of from some guy who's name he didn't even know. I didn't know who Crazy Jay was, but I had an idea of who it could be. I was hoping that I was wrong.
I don't know what Kevin Crabtree really wants. I don't really understand what the Deaf Kids from New Guinea are all about. I do know this: Woolly Booger is an actual place, a physical feature in a remote landscape. Thousands of people drive by it every week and never even know that it is there. But Woolly Booger is more than that. Woolly Booger is an inter-dimensional portal, and if these Deaf Kids are not stopped before they get there... well, if that happens knowing their motives won't make any difference. If that happens, in all likelihood, it will be Hell on earth.
It is my unfortunate task to prevent this from happening. I'm Special Investigator Ford Wenty, SCIU (Stoner Crimes Investigation Unit). Stay tuned with Midnight and other beasts for my next report...if there is one.
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