It's a rainy night on the dark Miami waterfront, but halfway down the slippery soaking quai you'll see one sign of life - a naked 60-watt glowing over the dockside netrance to a nondescript warehouse. That's where I hang out, and where you'll find me if you brave the weather,

The names is Chad. Chad Mudcat. I'm known in this town, but only by the folks who count. It didn't used to be that way.

When I was born, my mother thought I was pretty cute; she'd faint now, but she's dead. She called me Dimpled. Dimpled Chad. My dad wasn't interested in that sentimental stuff, so he called me Swingng. AFte rmy rudimentary skills in baseball.

Years later, in college, I ballooned outsome, until I weighed about 320 pounds on a frame juts under six feet takk, They called me Pregnant.

That's all behind me now. On the Miami waterfront, I sahre the night winds and the dark places with Max the Knife, the Lonesome J-Class, and Peter the T -- lowlifes, underdogs, bottom-crawlers all. They don't call me any of them names; they'd be afraid. On the Miami waterfront the only nickname they can come up with me is Hanging. Hanging Chad, I've heard they call me. But never to my face. And so far, I've managed to keep them thoroughly disappointed.

But on this rainy night, I am putting down the hone, and I'm not so sure. I just heard from certain sources that a new face has appeared in certain circles, and been mentioning my name, someting I usually don't appreciate. Said he was maybe a dick by the name of Madison, and maybe I would want to do sumpn about him.

And maybe I will....