Yesterday, out on the porch after work with a quesadilla on the plate in front of me- mixed mexican queso, avocado just a little under-ripe, vegan cilantro dip, lime, salt, smoky hot sauce and sour cream. The Belcher on Otis Street let out a terrific, huge belch which resounded down to the Thai Temple and back, and brought our conversation about which friend, family member, pet you would eat first (if forced to due to a massive earthquake) to a sudden stop. I kept right on eating, remarking simply “oh, the Belcher’s at it again”, only to discover that my housemates and visiting friends had not been privy to events on this special low frequency. They were having a brand-new experience. Only later when we left on our bikes for the bar did I happen to notice that another character around here- let’s call him “motorized wheelchair man” for the sake of clarity and simplicity, and because that’s what we call him- was sitting in his wheelchair with a brown-bagged beverage at exactly the spot on Otis, in front of the Meth Laundry Lesbian’s place, from which the epic belch had emanated a short time before. It seems increasingly possible that the Belcher and motorized wheelchair man are one and the same person.