Before discovering his true calling in life, Jiggle worked a variety of odd jobs over the years, not the worst of which was his night time role at the hookah bar. The bar catered to the night club crowd, who would often come wandering in after the bars started closing at 2:00 AM. In order to capitalize on this crowd, the owner kept the place open until around five in the morning most nights. Jiggle worked the late night shift, often coming in around midnight.
Jiggle, who always considered himself to be blended, was the product of a Korean father and a Canadian mother. At the time she gave birth to Jiggle, his mother was only 22. This was a stark contrast to the 76 years Jiggle’s father had been alive. The pair never really had a chance to make much of a family, since Jiggle’s father passed away just before his second birthday. Aside from his dad’s genetics, the boy gained little from his father, besides a last name.
“No. I am certainly not sure of that, nor much else,” Lesley replied, out the side of her mouth. “I am just looking for a quiet place to unwind. I was intrigued by the potpourri of smells wafting out into the street, so I decided to stroll in.”
“Fantastic!” Jiggle slithered back, with a smile pasted right in between his cheeks. “How about I start you off with a drink. We make a mean blueberry mojito.”
To be continued…