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…”
“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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