Black Wednesday

Black Wednesday

  By

  D. Anthony Brown

  Copyright 2012 D. Anthony Brown

  "Merry Thanksgiv-owe'enmas," said Tim to the shopper who had budged in front of him. The crowd of people swarmed outside the doors of the shop. A red neon sign hung over the door: Vladmar's Wand Shoppe.

  Another sign glued on the storefront window read: Half-off All Wands--The Perfect Gifte for the Dark Witch in Your Life. Tim wanted to tear that one down, only because it was true.

  The so-called Black Wednesday, when everything in this store was on sale and ready to go, was today. Only a corporate robber baron would think he could make money on the first Wednesday after Friday the Thirteenth.

  Turns out, the robber baron was right.

  At least, this time around, it wasn't bitter cold, snowing, and icy. There was, unfortunately, a still dark before dawn. Evelyn had warned him about going out shopping tonight, in the pitch black streets, with the inevitable crazy weirdo shoppers of both genders. But she needed a new wand after her last "failed" experiment to turn Tim into a docile frog. After recovering from the after effects of magic gone wrong, Tim noticed on his calendar that his true love's birthday was only a week away.

  And Evelyn was demanding more this year after his failed attempt at bringing a Christmas tree into her house. Tim was glad he was in the middle of shopping hell, as opposed to the memory of Evelyn forcing him to drink a concoction made from his toenails. He made sure to keep his feet clean from then on.

  The front doors opened as if, and probably by, magic. Tim was no good at sensing magic, except when his girlfriend was in a bad mood.

  The stampede of shoppers stormed past Tim, eager to get their hands on the latest wands and black cauldrons. Tim staggered on, trying to keep up, but the ball-and-chain tied to his ankle slowed him down though it weighed just a pound. A few strangers running past him looked down and noticed it, but few said anything. He liked to think that was because they knew he was Evelyn's lover, and were too afraid to mention that for fear of inadvertently getting her attention.

  Truth was, in a magic shop, a lot weird things can be seen--including a cloud of smoke roughly human shaped, a giant who hit his head on the way in the door, a number of fairies with iridescent wings, and a man stumbling along with a metal ball attached to his ankle.

  The damned thing slowed him down. Didn't help when he was pushed and shoved as well. A woman with an indigo handbag made a point that she was getting into the door before him by hitting him in the spleen and then elbowing him into the smoky-person, who cursed and shouted until he (or she) dissipated. Coughing and wheezing from the fumes, Tim apologized, and then apologized again when his nose hit the giant's buttock.

  The giant raised his fist to backhand Tim, but he ducked out of the way. Which was unfortunate for one of the fairies, who got smacked back to the parking lot. The other fairies fluttered their wings faster and waved their hands about, yelling in high squeaky voices. Rainbow-colored light filled the cold night air, illuminating everything in multicolored shades.

  Tim picked up his ball-and-chain and high-tailed it between the giant's legs into the relative safety of the store.

  Ahead of him, the woman with the indigo handbag turned around and smiled at him. Tim's first thought was how did she get ahead of me? His second thought made him drop his ball-and-chain on his toe.

  Evelyn can curse people with a smile.

  That was the last thing he needed, after the incident this last afternoon.

  ***

  She smacked him over the head with her pocket calendar, and he nearly dropped his teacup. Good thing he was expecting it, otherwise he would have worn tea on his new shirt, which would have annoyed Evelyn.

  She was already moody about something, one hand on her hip, her eyebrows arched in that way Tim found simultaneously cute, sexy, and scary as Hell. Tim rubbed his head. "What did I do this time?"

  Evelyn shook the calendar at him. Her tiny features betrayed an inner wickedness surpassed only by her keen observation. "You haven't bought me a gift yet."

  "How do you know? It's not your birthday yet."

  She took his half empty teacup and saucer away from him and took it to the kitchen sink. Evelyn dumped out the remaining tea. As she washed the dishes, she said, "The room under the staircase is empty."

  Drat! She knew his secret hiding place for her gifts. Tim got up and put his hands on her waist. She squirmed out of his touch, and scrubbed at the nearly clean teacup.

  "Perhaps it's out in the car."

  "You, mister," she looked at him through the red streak in her otherwise black and blue hair, "haven't kept anything in your car since your failed experiment at door-to-door selling. And after the 'promotional products' ate through the vinyl seats, nothing has been in the trunk except you."

  Tim got a clean towel out of the drawer and started drying the dishes. He didn't want to think about the time he'd gone to sleep in his bed and woken up inside the trunk. Talk about failed experiments--Evelyn had a long list of those, and Tim paid for them more often than not. "You'll have your gift on Friday."

  "Thursday," Evelyn gave what he called her evil eye--one eyebrow arched high, the other eye half closed. "And you better have it wrapped. You don't want a repeat of last year."

  She twirled her index finger and blew orange smoke out of her mouth and nostrils. Kitchen cabinets opened, the clean dishes flew to their proper places, landing safely without chipping or scratching, and the cabinets closed again.

  He really didn't want a repeat of last year--his tongue had swelled so much it hung out of his mouth in an embarrassing manner. He had had a hard time explaining to his boss that he was going to be sick for the next week.

  "And take the trash out," said Evelyn.

  ***

  Wading through the multitudes of shoppers all crammed in the wand and magic shop, Tim desperately searched for the perfect gift. He nudged people out of the way when he could, outright shoving those who seemed to have lost their sense of hearing. Only after a half hour of dredging through the masses did he reach the back of the store, by then he lost hope.

  One rabid shopper--her eyes dilated and froth hanging from her mouth--elbowed Tim hard in the ribs. He landed on the floor, gasping in pain, trying to catch his breath again, and doing his best to not get trampled by passers-by. He weaved snake-like in and out of the way of people's feet, his clothes stained and filthy from crawling on the muddy, wet floor.

  In the magic potion aisle he managed to stand up, but too late to find out why this place in the store wasn't as crowded. A nauseating fume hung in the air. Tim took one look back at the crowds, and decided to brave whatever foul potion that happened to have leaked out. A few steps into the aisle, and Tim regretted that decision.

  Glass lay shattered on the floor, and smoke drifted up from a mess of dark liquid. A few feet further, a man lay in a pool of vomit, muttering incoherently. Tim covered his mouth, breathing as little as possible. His lungs aching, his head already feeling light from the fumes, he grabbed the man by the shirt and dragged him to the end of the aisle.

  "Leaping leprechauns everywhere," mumbled the man, his eyes unfocused and crossed, "metallic unicorns and dolphins with scuba masks."

  And then he saw it--exactly the thing that would make Evelyn happy. Tim dropped the man, who, between fits of coughing, made his distaste of being dropped known.

  Tim ignored him, practically skipping to the twisted, black wood wand with an brass tip and ivory handle. It wasn't in a glass case--that would have been too easy to break into--instead, it was encased in a shimmering network of light that resembled a gilded cage. He placed his hands near the light, his palms itched and turned red. The sign near the near wand said, Dark Wand of Witchery, mad
e of rosewood, perfect for someone with an inclination towards Black Magic.

  The price was extortionate, but he could afford it. He'd have to, for Evelyn.

  "Shucks," said someone behind him, "last one." Tim turned around to the soft, sultry voice. The woman with the indigo handbag smiled at him again. Tim groaned.

  "It's mine," he said, "I've already claimed it."

  "You have? And where is the salesman?"

  Tim looked around. Not a damn employee in sight. "He's, uh, gone to get the manager to undo the anti-theft spell."

  "Sure, sure." She winked and snapped her fingers. The spell around the wand came down. Tim panicked--his field of vision narrowing, adrenaline pumping in his head--and reached for the wand. The woman smacked him with her handbag, but he half-expected that--he lived with such abuse everyday--and held the wand in a death-grip.

  The woman grabbed his wrist, snarling like--like an animal gone shopping on the worst day shopping day of the year. Tim tried his most menacing grimace, which made her smile all the more.

  "You can't have it," he said, wincing at how hot the ivory handle was getting. The brass tip fizzled and smoked. This can't be good.

  A puff of warm air blew between them, and the woman's skin became translucent and swirly. She--like the Tasmanian Devil in the cartoons--yelled something incoherent at Tim and turned into a whirlwind. The miniature cyclone blew past Tim, destroying merchandise along the way, but he still held on to Evelyn's gift.

  Victory has a short lifespan, he thought as the wand got too big for him to hold. His entire body felt funny, like it was contracting on itself. The world around him got very large and intimidating, and the by-standers all looked like giants. Not like Tim could see much. But his hearing was really good.

  On the floor looking up, Tim thought it was a great idea to fly to the ceiling and hang from a rafter.

  ***

  Evelyn stood among the ruined merchandise in Vladmar's Wand Shoppe, Tim's clothing at her feet, and the store's manager ten steps away. Her eyes tried to make sense of the small furry creature hanging from the ceiling.

  "I'm sorry about your boyfriend," said the manager. "He'll be fine with the correct spell. Same with the other victim."

  She smiled at the fruit bat. The little guy scrunched his head behind his wings as if to hide. "Aw, I'm so sorry, Tim," she said, "but you're cuter now."

  "Ma'am?"

  Evelyn pointed at the wand with the brass tip and ivory handle, now back on its original display table. "How much?"

  The End

  ###

  About the author:

  D. Anthony Brown is the pen-name of David Brown, a writer who lives in Minnesota. He has devoted his time to life-long learning and rots his brain on computer games. He loves both folk music and heavy metal. He is an avid reader.

  Connect with the author:

  Website: https://danthonybrown.me/

  LiveJournal: https://d-anthony-brown.livejournal.com/

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/D-Anthony-Brown/185937591486627