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“Just another non-descript peasant village in another eastern European, Soviet Union breakaway, wanna-be nation” and “why would you want to bother?” That, in a nutshell, is how Janet Bergman’s boss responded when Janet told him about her latest idea for a tourist getaway package. And it was a tiny curio shop in a narrow back street of that very town that Janet and her husband were using to hide from the cold and wet that had settled on this isolated mountain town.
Janet’s instinct for finding money making tours had made a great deal of money for her and her employers. So much money that they found that they could refuse her no request. She managed to talk her boss into sending her and her husband on so many vacations, using instead the corporate-speak phrase “investigative business trips”, that her husband couldn’t hold down a job of his own. Nobody who blows all of his vacation and sick leave plus some while still in his 90 day trial period is going to last beyond the end of the trial period.
Together they roamed this village from one end to the other and back again. She found the “rustic bed and breakfasts”1 and “native craft shoppes”2 while he found the “quaint local taverns”3. He’d complain about the mountainous terrain and miserable weather while she’d translate his grumbling into “the streets reminiscent of San Francisco” and “...like a spring day in Seattle”. On towards evening a cold drizzle4 drove the couple from the narrow streets into a junk shop5 they hadn’t noticed the day before.
The little old lady who kept up the shop peered anxiously over the counter at the young couple in the expensive clothes who insisted on handling absolutely everything on the shelves and why couldn’t they keep their hands to themselves anyway? Not that she minded keeping the store open a little longer. It’s just that, as the ticking of the creepy cat shaped clock on the wall - the horrible, toothy, smiling cat with the swinging tail and the huge unblinking eyes that keep sweeping back and forth, back and forth, ever watching, ever watching, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD MAKE IT STOP! - kept reminding her, sunset was rapidly approaching. Still, she held her smile until she thought she’d fade away leaving only her dentures.
Ten minutes to sunset.
“I think the rain’s letting up.” she hazarded.
How she’d know this was impossible to say considering the lack of windows in this particular shop.
The young man stuck his head out the door for a moment. Looking towards the elderly woman behind the cash register he shook his head.
“Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, hey, hey, hey, hey...” droned the clock toward the shopkeeper. Why she bothered buying that thing was beyond her. “...tick, tick, hey, hey, tick, tick, look, at, me, look, at, me...”
No.
“...tick, tick, look, tick, at, tick, me, hey, hey, look, at, me...”
No.
“...look, at, me, look, at, me...”
FINE! I’m looking!
“I’m watching you.” Grin.
“Perhaps you’d be interested in purchasing this fine clock. I can let you have it at a very reasonable price.”
“Thank you, but no.” said Janet. “I’m sorry to be a bother but we’ll get out of your way just as soon as the rain lets up.”
Five minutes to sunset.
“I’m afraid I really must close up now. Really. Why don’t you borrow my umbrella? You seem like a nice couple. You can bring it back tomorrow.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that to you.”
“Then keep the umbrella. And the clock. I’ll give you both the umbrella and the smiling cat clock if you’ll just leave. NOW!”
Three minutes to sunset.
“Honey, we ARE in her way.” said the husband thinking affectionately of the strong local ales. “That pub is just down the street. Why don’t we just duck into there and wait this out. We can bring the umbrella back when she opens in the morning.”
“Well, OK. But the clock isn’t necessary, ma’am.”
“...tick, tick, tick, tick, guess, what, I’m, doing, tick, tick...” Grin.
The old woman scurried out with a tattered parasol that would be about as much use in a shower as a pet door on a fish tank. Thrusting the parasol into Janet’s hands the old woman pulled the door open and hurried the two people out into the storm.
Janet and her husband hurried past the two figures hiding in the long shadows. The one dressed in nothing but a diaper shook the rain from his wings and pulled himself up to his full three foot stature. Making sure the coast was clear he gestured toward the shadow. A second figure, identical except for his outfit, a black leather bondage outfit complete with ball gag stuffed in his mouth, stepped out and hurried up the street to the shop. From under one of his wings, wrapped with a series of leather constricting belts, he pulled a notice.
D.C. Armory
27 December 2005
10:00 hours
He slipped the notice under the door of the curio shop and started back towards his companion.
As the last rays of the sun peered between the clouds and the horizon the shop door opened one last time. From within, a frenzied voice yelled “Stop staring at me!” Something flew from the doorway, smashed against the far wall, and fell into the gutter as a broken pile of grinning clockwork.
The door slammed and began to fade from existence. A minute later the street was empty except for the sound of wet wings trying to get off the ground.
The shopkeeper never got her parasol back.
1 ancient cottage with empty guest rooms.
2 locals trying to eek out a living selling whatever they can find.
3 smelly old bars
4 cooling shower
5 curio shoppe
2 comments:
I have heard that it isn't tooooo hard to get 'published' these days. I had a random buddy that sold his story to Kindle, and they sell it for a buck. Of the dollar he gets 30 cents or so, but still. It's pretty cool. And not toooo difficult.
Crap. Now "tick, tick, tick, tick, look, at, me, tick..." is rolling around in my head, where I suspect it will continue to roll for several days. Dang you, Dougintology! Dang you!
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