"She's only doing this gig until her ex-husband's alimony check comes," I say. The woman with the deep, sunken eyes strums her guitar in a lament about lost loves.

"That is, IF he doesn't skip bail again and fall back into a life of robbing little old ladies at church," Nancy adds.

I watch the performer for another moment before continuing our Creative Gossip. "Singing these songs makes her forget all that. Even if it's singing at Borders books on a Saturday night."

"Of course, she's lucky she has this gig at all. It's not like her manager's been all that effective." Nancy stirs her coffee as the caffeine stirs her mind.

"No, he definitely hasn't. He's too busy trying to get into her pants."

"That bastard."

"But she's had to fend off guys like that before in this line of work. She's used to it by now."

Nancy's eyes light up. "Hence her kung fu classes. Her manager's not going to try anything again after she flipped him over and threw him into a garbage can."

"So that's where she got that scar on her lip from."

"Hmm? What scar? Oh wow, I mean, yea, that's where she got that scar from."

"Good one." I wink.

Nancy smiles. "Yup, you can't get anything by me."

I look around the cafe for our next victim. "What about him? 2 o'clock. With the beard."

"The hippie?" Nancy rubs her chin. "The hippie. He's high right now, you know."

"He's always high when he comes to Borders. It's the only way he can read nowadays. It clears his mind from the voices."

"Which have been getting worse lately. Why just the other day, his cat told him to burn his mail."

"The cat?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Yea, the cat!"

"That damn pussy cat."

"That's why he's locked it up in the basement now. Only he forgot that the basement window is always open, so the cat wandered out and is pooping on his pillow right now."

I laugh. "Vengeful cat there."

"So now he's reading about…" she squints and tries to read the cover of his book. "…about astrophysics?"

"Whoa. This guy means business."

"Yea. The voices have been telling him about a trans-spatial transportation device, which he's sure he can build."

"But I thought the pot quieted the voices."

"Oh, right. Um. He's a teacher of astrophysics."

"At Berkeley."

"At Berkeley, of course. And his students love him because they can easily lead his lectures on tangents about pot."

"And group sex."

Just then, the hippie with the beard looks up at us with a scowl. Nancy and I drop our heads to study our coffees. "Um, we'd better go now," Nancy whispers.

I nod. We gather our stuff and head towards the exit.

"I would never lock my cat up," we hear the hippie mutter as we walk out the door.

. . .

Do you like to make up Creative Gossip?