Jim ran into the room clutching a fistful of crisp bills and trying to shine his shoes on the back of his pant legs.

“Smile, boys! I’m buying lobster tonight!”

It made me look up from pummeling Renaldo. “The hell you talking about, Jim?” I asked.

Jim smiled a slick smile that made me very uncomfortable.
“I’m as rich as a king!” he cried.

Turns out some newspaper had picked up one of his photos and paid him up front. I knew I should congratulate him, but Renaldo started slipping away from me. I whacked him in the face as Jim started blabbing about his success. When I’d finished with Renaldo, I looked up again at Jim, who was waving a polaroid under my nose.

As I scanned the picture, I felt the blood drain from my face. “Sweet Jesus, Jim. You know what this is?”

Jim frowned. “Well, the editor said it probably nothing, but it would sell papers. He said he’d call it a …”

“Chupacabra” I finished. “Now what were you saying about those lobsters?