Mutant Life Form

I'd heard about them before, but had never seen one. Supposedly they show up, during certain astrological alignments, at a certain cigar bar in downtown Sioux Falls. Without visual evidence, I had exiled them to the mythological realm occupied by other alleged beasts. Sasquatch. Nessy. The Phoenix, Roc, Jabberwock. But then, Saturday evening, minding my own business and enjoying the music of Hank Harris, he appeared and asked if he could share my table. I said, sure, just don't block my view of Hank. He sat down, placing his drink and cell phone on the table before him. It was. The dreaded. Stogeez-er!! In a Hawaiian print shirt, lavender socks, blue loafers, and enough cologne to alter the taste of my Fat Tire beer even though we were outside and it was breezy and there were people smoking cigars nearby. He stayed for one drink, checking his cell phone at least three times, then disappeared into the night. I didn't take a picture. Though, according to Stogeezer legend, they cannot be photographed. Did other patrons see him, or was it just me?