Chapter One

John Candy doesn't live here anymore... that was a stupid statement to think Cyrus Sinclair thought to himself as he dropped his napkin on the floor of the sidewalk cafe. Of course John Candy doesn't live here anymore... he doesn't live anywhere on the planet at the moment. John Candy died 10 years ago... March 4th, 1994 to be exact. He died in Mexico while filming a movie. John Candy had been one of Cyrus Sinclair's favourite actors. That's how come he remembered the date of his death. Cyrus Sinclair's latest failed relationship seemed to be getting to him. All sorts of strange thoughts seemed to be going through his mind. And now the thought... John Candy doesn't live here anymore. Well of course he doesn't.

"Hello," the smiling cherubic portly looking blonde gentleman sitting at the table next to him said.

Cyrus Sinclair dropped his napkin again. He didn't recall anyone sitting at the table next to him. He was sure that he had been outside on the sidewalk patio portion of the cafe all by himself. The only one who had spoken to him all afternoon had been the waiter when he had ordered his Cappucino. But obviously there must have been someone sitting at the table next to him who had arrived sometime. Otherwise the gentleman would not be speaking to him now. Careful, Cyrus thought to himself, you might be losing it. So deep in thought that one doesn't see anyone sitting at the table next to them. And judging from the width of the gentleman sitting next to him, the fellow wasn't easy not to see.

"Hello," Cyrus answered the gentleman and smiled in his direction. The fellow looked awfully familiar. I wonder where I've seen him before, Cyrus thought to himself.

"Are you Cyrus Sinclair?" the gentleman asked.

"Yes... yes I am," Cyrus stammered. He had obviously met the fellow before. How embarassing. Cyrus Sinclair had always prided himself on his ability to remember names and faces. And for all this fellow's seeming familiarity to him, he couldn't remember his name.

There had been a pause in the conversation as the cherubically smiling portly blonde gentleman looked at him. He wants me to answer back using his name, Cyrus thought to himself. But I can't remember his name, Cyrus crumpled the napkin in his hand.

"I'm sorry," Cyrus finally broke the silence, "I can't remember your name. You do look awfully familiar and I'm not just saying that either like some people... well... a lot of people do. But I've no idea what your name is. I'm sorry. I've sort of had a bad week this past week. What is your name?"

The blonde gentleman just waved his hands and laughed, "It's all right. I don't think we have met before. I've a good memory for names and faces myself, at least I used to have. Haven't been around these parts in a long time. It's just that I've been sent to meet you and talk to you. And I wanted to make sure I got the right person. I often had the habit of talking to the wrong person. Like when I phoned Bruce McNall and asked him if he'd like to buy the Argos with me. It was the wrong Bruce McNall. Boy, you should have been listening in on that conversation. It was hilarious."

"What is your name?" Cyrus Sinclair asked the man.

"I'm sorry," the man apologized, "Where are my manners? Gee, I haven't been in these parts for awhile. Of course, when I was down here, many people didn't have manners. But I did. Well, I shouldn't say that. I guess that's really for others to judge. I tried always to have good manners. My mother brought me up to have good manners and I tried to live up to her teachings. And what was I saying? You'll have to forgive me. I was always a person with so much to say and just had to say it that sometimes I forgot what it was I wanted to say. What was I saying?"

"I think you were going to tell me your name," Cyrus said.

"Name, right!" The blonde gentleman pointed a finger at Cyrus and laughed. "D-oh!" The gentleman pointed his finger at his own head, "Yeah, of course you want to know my name. Yeah, you're a sharp individual Mr. Sinclair. As I was sitting here looking at you, I was thinking to myself, that Cyrus Sinclair looks like a sharp individual. A little down in the dumps mind you but sharp. Oops! I hope you don't mind me saying you looked down in the dumps. I know some people when they're depressed don't like others pointing out to them the fact they look depressed. It just depresses them even more. So if you're offended by the fact I said you looked down in the dumps, I'm sorry. Feel free to slap my face! Well, actually I don't know if you can slap my face, come to think of it."

"No, you're right. I was feeling down in the dumps just then," Cyrus nodded, "Don't worry. I'm not going to slap your face."

"Good," the man smiled a warm smile, "I don't know if you can like I said. But in case, you could... It's just that I haven't felt pain in quite a while. It might have come as a shock to me. You slap my face. And I could feel it. Ouch! That hurt." The man laughed and proceeded to rub his cherubically clean-shaven face.

"Yes," Cyrus nodded, "I know what you mean. " This gentleman is quite the eccentric, Cyrus thought to himself.

He suddenly noticed a boy on the sidewalk outside the cafe staring at him intently. Cyrus looked at him. As soon as the boy saw Cyrus looking at him, his face turned ashen white and he quickly ran off down the street.

"Hm. You'd think that kid had seen a ghost," Cyrus remarked.

"I don't think he can see me," the blonde gentleman said.

Cyrus turned back to the gentleman, "What was your name by the way?"

"Right, this time I will tell you..." the familiar cherubically smiling portly blonde gentleman held out his hand in a gesture of friendship, "it's... John Candy."


* * *