Buffy Mary Sue
By Scribe
Part Three
Open for Business
The finished their meal, and Ephraim checked his watch and said, "Well, we can still get in half a shift today. Come along." They went out into the front of the shop, and Ephraim unlocked the front door.
"Now we just wait for the customers to come to us?" Mozell asked, as he joined her once again behind the counter.
"Not quite. I wait for the customers." He handed her an old-fashioned turkey feather duster. "You dust." He sat down on a comfortably padded stool and picked up a magazine. The cover said NEW MAGE (Mozell quickly decided that she'd misread that--it had to be NEW AGE). "Don't forget that some of it will need a cloth."
Mozell sighed. "Right. Such is life." She started to make her way around the room, flicking the duster carefully over and around artifacts. About ten minutes later the door opened. A tall, rail thin woman stood under the jangling bells, hand on the doorknob, squinting suspiciously around the store. *She looks like she mugged a color blind gypsy for that outfit.* When the customer looked at her, Mozell put on her best greeter's smile. "Hi! What can I do for you?" The woman looked startled--even alarmed. She quickly stepped back outside, slamming the door shut. Mozell blinked, then looked back at Ephraim. "Does 'hi' mean something hostile in a different language, and I just don't know it?"
Ephraim turned a page, not even looking up. "I should have told you--aggressive cheerfulness and friendliness might be viewed as a sort of red flag for some of my customers. I'd advise you to cultivate your poker face. A simple nod to let them know that you know they're here will be enough, till they indicate an interest in something."
*A job where I'm not expected to smile till my face hurts, even if I'm having heartburn, bad hair, and cramps? This is getting odder by the moment.* She continued dusting. She noticed that when she was wiping down a small china dog, Ephraim was watching her over the top of his magazine. Though his posture was still relaxed, he seemed to be holding his breath till she set the figurine down again. That disturbed her even more than what had almost made her drop the object--the fact that for a split-second she had thought that it had--pulsed.
The door opened again. The new arrival was male this time. He was quite young--still looked on the frustrated side of graduation, in fact. She was on the right side of the room, half-behind one of the tall cases when he entered. He looked at Ephraim, sitting back behind the counter, and gave him a silent nod. Ephraim nodded in return, expression bland. Mozell stepped around the case, twirled the duster, and gave the base of the case a few artistic, totally unnecessary flicks. When the boy looked at her she held the blank expression for a second, but years of customer service training was hard to overcome, and she smiled brightly.
The boy's eyes widened, and he took a step back, bumping into the door, and blurted, "Dude, have you eaten?"
*Damn, I knew I wasn't up on current slang, but I had no idea I was this far off. I guess I'd better take it straight faced.* She didn't reply--she just made her expression smooth again, and nodded slowly. Apparently it was the right response, because the boy relaxed a little. *Wait for them to express an interest. Okay.* She took the cloth and began to hunt for specks on the glass.
The boy began browsing around the room, picking up an item here or there for closer examination. Mozell continued with her chore, but she watched him out of the corner of her eye. She was doing a bit of stereotypical profiling. In her experience, anyone wearing a knit cap pulled far down on their forehead when the temperature outside was over eighty was either A, possibly ill (and you should watch them in case you needed to dial 911 if they had a seizure, or something), B, a fashion victim who was so pathetic that there was no telling what sort of desperate act they might perform, or more likely C, a thug. The only one she knew of who didn't fit those profiles was Adam, Joan Gerrardy's boyfriend on Joan of Arcadia--and he was fictional.
Sure enough, one of the items he picked up didn't make it back onto the shelf. When he slipped the small ivory object into his pocket, Mozell looked quickly at Ephraim. He'd seen it, all right, but instead of saying or doing anything, he just raised his eyebrows at her. After a little longer, the boy picked up a small glass vial of purplish powder, and carried it to the back case.
Ephraim crooked a finger, and Mozell went to join him. "Your first customer, Mozell. He's all yours. Do with him what you will."
"Uh-huh." *Great. So it's a sort of test.*
The boy showed her the vial. "Is this what I think it is?"
"What do you think it is?"
"Pulvis inflatio."
"Farting powder. That's right."
"Is it guaranteed?"
"Give someone a sniff of that, and you'll have a one man recreation of the 'beans around the campfire' scene from Blazing Saddles. Of course the effect is supposed to be more-or-less permanent, unless the victim performs the proper rituals to neutralize it, and not too many people are likely to know that."
"Cool. How much?"
Mozell looked at Ephraim. He looked back. *Okay, even if this does what it's supposed to it's only a couple of steps over itching or sneezing powder, which you can buy in any joke shop. On the other hand, the potential annoyance factor would make it more valuable to a kid like this.* "Forty dollars."
"Dude! Did you lace it with gold dust?"
"Look, you have at least five doses there, if you aren't extravagant. Who are you planning to use it on? Love rival? Snotty jock? Isn't it worth it?" He was weakening. "Tell you what--since you're my first customer, I'll cut you some slack. Thirty-five, and you promise not to use it on anyone who's likely to come in here."
"Outstanding!" He pulled out his wallet and counted out the money. She rang up the sale on the antique register, trying not to wince at the clatter. "Need a bag?" She looked at Ephraim. "Do we have bags?" He smiled. She looked back at the boy. "No bags."
"That's cool." He started to turn away.
"And it'll be seventy-five bucks for that item in your pocket."
He froze, then said, far too casually, "What item?"
"The little carved elephant. I can't imagine anyone living in Texas getting much use out of that, not unless they were going to the zoo, or the circus. Why the heck would you want to make an elephant go berserk, anyway? I mean, at the zoo they're in enclosures, so it's unlikely anyone would get hurt. And at a circus, you'd have to be right there, and there's a chance that you'd end up as the sticky stuff between the elephant's toes. Like I said, I can't see much use for it, but it is genuine ivory, so I have to set a good price on it. So, cash, or do you put it back?"
The boy looked at Ephraim. Ephraim shrugged his shoulders. "It's her call. She has to be able to handle this place by herself."
The boy looked back at her, and sneered. "Suppose I don't want to give it up?"
Her eyes narrowed. *He's nervous, and it would take about two of him to make one of me. Bluff time.* "Oh, I don't know. Suppose I take that plastic bucket and shove it over your head?" *Whoa! I have never seen anyone turn white so fast!*
The boy walked back to the case, took the elephant out of his pocket, and carefully replaced it. He gave her an aggrieved look and said, "You don't have to be vicious about it." Then he left.
Ephraim finally closed his magazine. "Oh, well done, Miss Mozeby! The threat was inspired."
"What exactly did I threaten him with? What's that thing supposed to do?"
"You really don't want to know."
She snorted. "Another area of life where it seems that everyone else knows what's going on, and are conspiring to keep it from me."
He gave her what was obviously supposed to be an innocent look. "Gosh, we'd hoped that you wouldn't notice. Help yourself to five dollars of that last sale. I know where I can get my hands on a crate of that dust, so it didn't cost me more than a few cents."
"You're trying to distract me."
"Is it working?"
She punched NO SALE on the register, and took a five. "Yes."
"We're going to get on famously."
There were a few more customers. A plump, rather obnoxious British lady bought a cup and saucer set--Royal Dolton, with hand painted periwinkles that was supposed to curse whoever used it with bad nerves and clumsiness. Mozell couldn't be sure, but she thought that the words the woman was crooning to it as she left the shop were 'my precioussss'. A rather malicious looking young had bought a mechanical pencil. It's supposed quirk was that occasionally whatever had been written with it would transform into something else entirely--and the more inaccurate or embarrassing, the more likely. She said with great satisfaction that it was a gift for her math professor, who had complained recently about how many pencils he was going through, working on his doctoral thesis.
Near closing time, the door was opened by someone who bore a remarkable resemblance to Santa Claus, in the off-season. He was plump, with longish white hair, and a full white beard, and there was a definite twinkle in his eyes. Though the fact that the twinkle appeared when he was examining Mozell's bust line made her think that perhaps the resemblance was merely physical.
The man spotted Ephraim, and his expression lit up even more as he strode back toward him. "My dear boy! Love what you've done with the place." They shook hands, leaning toward each other, murmuring quickly. Mozell couldn't be positive, but she thought she caught her employer's name just before the new customer raised his voice and said, "Splendid new shop, Ephraim. Interesting location."
Ephraim shrugged. "Fresh fields."
"Indeed." The visitor looked at Mozell again. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your charming assistant?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Oh, it's like that, is it? Well, you always were a selfish toad, but I don't suppose I can fault you for being possessive of your apprentice."
Ephraim noticed Mozell's stare, and said, "Shop assistant."
"Of course. Have you got that little item I ordered?"
"I haven't failed you yet, have I?" Ephraim came out and went to the largest standing case. He unlocked it, then from his pocket a cigar carrier--something that looked like a metal test tube, with a screw top. He opened it, then reached into the case, and picked up the pick that he'd shown Mozell earlier. He very carefully slid it into the tube, point first, then screwed the lid on. "I'd advise that the first thing you do when you get that home is put a cork on the tip, for safety's sake." The man reached for the tube eagerly, but Ephraim held it away. "Ah-ah-ah." He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.
"Yes, yes, of course." The man pulled out his wallet, and extracted a stack of bills as thick as a pad of post-it notes. He rifled off a very respectable handful of twenties and handed it over to Ephraim, then received the tube in return.
As the customer slipped his purchase into his pocket, Ephraim cautioned, "Remember our agreement about where you use that. Dirty my front yard, and I'll do something very nasty to you."
"Never fear. I don't have any immediate plans for this, but when I use it, it will be on my own patch of ground." He glanced once again at Mozell. "Quiet little thing, isn't she?"
Mozell looked at Ephraim and, deadpanned, said in a Bugs Bunny voice, "He don't know me very well, do he?"
The man's twinkle grew into a glitter. "Ephraim, you're sure you won't--?"
"No."
"Pig." He left on that note.
When he'd gone, Mozell said, "Apprentice? You just made a nice wad off that sale, but you still aren't Donald Trump."
"Semantics, Miss Mozeby, semantics. Well, dawn approaches, and I doubt we'll have any more traffic tonight. Why don't you toddle on home?"
"Suits me." She went into the back room and gathered the clothes she'd worn to work. "I'm changing back into my tenny shoes, though. I'm not about to try to walk home in those satin things. My feet are going to hurt bad enough as it is working in them. No support. I don't suppose I could wear nurse's shoes, if I could come up with a black pair?"
He shook his head. "Hardly the effect I'm looking for. You know, nurses used to be scary." He gave a theatrical shiver, making a face. "All that sterile white, then uniform that suggested inclusion in some sort of arcane cult, or possibly paramilitary group, but now... It's just hard to look vaguely menacing when you're wearing pastel, baggy scrubs--possibly with a fluffy bunny print."
"Oh, I don't know. It would depend on what they were carrying. A hypodermic, or an enema syringe would be enough to put most people on edge. Good night."
Mozell went to bed at about ten AM, and got up just before six PM. As was usual, she turned on the television, just so she'd have some noise in the background as she went about her routine. She didn't pay any real attention to it. That was why the news broadcast was nothing more than a background murmur to her.
"And finally tonight--something from the news of the bizarre. There was a freak accident at a local high school pep rally today, when a cheer leading pyramid collapsed, sending five boys and girls to the hospital with sprains, bruises, and at least one concussion. There is no official statement as to what caused the accident, but rumor has it that several of the cheerleaders forming the base were struck with," there was a chuckle, "violent intestinal disturbances." Another chuckle. "Not funny, Toby."
"I know, I know. But what you didn't say was that the building was evacuated voluntarily, at stampede speed." Mozell came out of the bedroom. "Some witnesses report seeing a faint purple mist or smoke around the affected cheerleaders. And speaking of cheerleaders, in sports tonight..."
Mozell shut off the set and started toward the kitchen, thinking about supper, but she paused before she got out of the room, a thoughtful look on her face. After a moment she shook her head, then went on.
