Tuesday, October 31, 2017

Secret Basement Lab Alphabet: XX DOUBLE FEATURE XTRAVAGANZA


X is for XYLABONES

The music of the night: the wind whistling through headstones in an abandoned graveyard; the skitter of dry leaves, windblown, raking across dry concrete; the galloping beat of a frightened heart pumping in one’s ears. The melody of mystery! The harmony of horror!




X is for X-RATED SPECS

“I assure you, sir, that it is on the up-and-up!” The short, bearded man leaned over his booth and produced a slip of yellow paper.

X-RATED SPECS – ADULT AMUSEMENT FOR PERSONAL PLEASURE
CERTIFIED GENUINE OR MONEY BACK

PFSR. RANDY GADGET.

“It’s not really in our line of stock,” Chad said, trying to brush off the little man and continue his tour around the auditorium. He and his sales associate Sandra Bellows were looking for new acquisitions for their client, THE POPNECKER NOVELTY CO., purveyors of fine junk to be advertised in pulp magazines, comic books and the like.
This was hardly something that could be peddled to the general public. Hell, it would get Popnecker Novelty blacklisted from the trade, and he would be out of a job.
“What do we have here?” Sandra asked, stepping up to the booth. Chad hadn’t heard her approach. She grabbed at one of the pairs of cheap-looking black-plastic-framed glasses and unfolded the bows.
“Uh, Sandy I don’ think you should…”
“Someone finally perfect a set of X-ray Specs? Hope it’s better than the old make-you-see-double kind that produce—“
Sandy was staring at Chad, and her mouth was agape, her face fire hydrant-red.
“These…these aren’t…”
“X-Rated Specs!” Professor Gadget piped, pride in his voice. “First of their kind! Guaranteed to work!”
Sandy didn’t say anything, just continued to stare.
“Uh, yeah…”
She took the specs off and slapped them back on the table.
Chad was unsure how to proceed. The entire situation was beyond awkward. “You ok, Sandy?”  
“I don’t think these are for us,” Sandy simply replied. “Chad, I saw some new, improved hand-buzzers over on the other side of aisle B, next to the fake vomit vendor. I think it might be a marketable product.”
Apparently Sandy had been unfazed, or hid it well.
“I’ll meet you over there,” Chad said, eager to walk away and relieve some of the tension that seemed to surround the booth like invisible gelatin.
After Chad had vanished from eyesight, Sandy turned back to the small, bearded Professor Gadget.
“I’ll take two pair,” she said, fishing her wallet from her purse.

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