Quick fiction
I think it happens to everybody, eventually. You’re standing outside of a store with your hands in your pockets while you’re on the clock, and you see a sign that says “We’ve got it. True black candles!” You start to wonder to yourself “True black candles? What does that even mean?” So you walk inside to find-out. The aging hippie pretends to acknowledge you with a smile, while the only thing she even sees is some yuppiesque kid preparing to waste her time.
You clear your throat.
“What’s this I hear about true black candles?”
She raises her head from a dog-eared copy of Women in Late Antiquity.
“You want one?”
You feel a little offended.
“I’m not allowed to enjoy a good candle?”
She laughs and winks. This makes you feel awkward, by the way. She folds the corner of the page she’s reading and closes her book. While she’s rifling in the background, you’re wondering why some pink candle with coral flecks in it costs 85 bucks.
“Here ya are.”
“Hm?”
It’s just a black candle!
“What were you planning on doing with it?”
Apparently, this is supposed to be some sort of secret code-speak. She thinks you’re a member of the cabal. You’d better not appear sarcastic, or who knows what hoodoo she’ll cast on your jubjub.
“Well… I was planning on setting the white, stringy part on fire.”
“Yeah?”
You can’t commit.
“No.”
“No?”
Fuck.
“Not for fifty bucks, I’m not!”
She laughs and winks at you again. Uhhhh, awkward. The salesman in you sees that, if you wanted it badly enough, she’d probably let it go for fifteen. You don’t. You force a smile and hand it back to her. This obviously surprises her, because she stares at you like you just punched her in the gut. Gritting your teeth, you walk backwards. This time, she forces the smile and replies in a meek voice.
“… maybe some other time…?”
“Um. Sure thing.”
You leave and think to yourself: “Wow. I should really go back to work.”
You spend the rest of the night thinking about how nice it would feel to be driving home in the rain with your lights turned-off.
Craig and I had an interesting conversation tonight:
fantasticraig: dude there is a clown that lives at my appt complex
fantasticraig: what kind of crap is that?
Nunchucker86: That's awesome!
Nunchucker86: I hope his name is Pennywise.
fantasticraig: hes like a really half-ass clown that just kind of wears the face makeup and normal street clothes
Nunchucker86: Haha.
Nunchucker86: Is he you, Craig? Really. Is he you?
fantasticraig: hes lame even by clown standards
fantasticraig: i would never resort to such clownery
fantasticraig: what should i do?
fantasticraig: like call the orchin man or something?
Nunchucker86: Live and let clown.
fantasticraig: maybe he is like blade and is half clown and half human
Nunchucker86: All of their strengths, none of their weaknesses.
fantasticraig: he is immune to riducule and little kids kicking him in the groin
Nunchucker86: Haha, because he looks like a serial killer.
fantasticraig: why is a clown living in a college dorm?
Nunchucker86: Maybe you go to clown college.
fantasticraig: NOOOOOO
fantasticraig: the warinings were all there but i just ignored them
fantasticraig: UCF- universal clown federation?
Nunchucker86: And here I was, just thinking that you were an alcoholic.
You clear your throat.
“What’s this I hear about true black candles?”
She raises her head from a dog-eared copy of Women in Late Antiquity.
“You want one?”
You feel a little offended.
“I’m not allowed to enjoy a good candle?”
She laughs and winks. This makes you feel awkward, by the way. She folds the corner of the page she’s reading and closes her book. While she’s rifling in the background, you’re wondering why some pink candle with coral flecks in it costs 85 bucks.
“Here ya are.”
“Hm?”
It’s just a black candle!
“What were you planning on doing with it?”
Apparently, this is supposed to be some sort of secret code-speak. She thinks you’re a member of the cabal. You’d better not appear sarcastic, or who knows what hoodoo she’ll cast on your jubjub.
“Well… I was planning on setting the white, stringy part on fire.”
“Yeah?”
You can’t commit.
“No.”
“No?”
Fuck.
“Not for fifty bucks, I’m not!”
She laughs and winks at you again. Uhhhh, awkward. The salesman in you sees that, if you wanted it badly enough, she’d probably let it go for fifteen. You don’t. You force a smile and hand it back to her. This obviously surprises her, because she stares at you like you just punched her in the gut. Gritting your teeth, you walk backwards. This time, she forces the smile and replies in a meek voice.
“… maybe some other time…?”
“Um. Sure thing.”
You leave and think to yourself: “Wow. I should really go back to work.”
You spend the rest of the night thinking about how nice it would feel to be driving home in the rain with your lights turned-off.
Craig and I had an interesting conversation tonight:
fantasticraig: dude there is a clown that lives at my appt complex
fantasticraig: what kind of crap is that?
Nunchucker86: That's awesome!
Nunchucker86: I hope his name is Pennywise.
fantasticraig: hes like a really half-ass clown that just kind of wears the face makeup and normal street clothes
Nunchucker86: Haha.
Nunchucker86: Is he you, Craig? Really. Is he you?
fantasticraig: hes lame even by clown standards
fantasticraig: i would never resort to such clownery
fantasticraig: what should i do?
fantasticraig: like call the orchin man or something?
Nunchucker86: Live and let clown.
fantasticraig: maybe he is like blade and is half clown and half human
Nunchucker86: All of their strengths, none of their weaknesses.
fantasticraig: he is immune to riducule and little kids kicking him in the groin
Nunchucker86: Haha, because he looks like a serial killer.
fantasticraig: why is a clown living in a college dorm?
Nunchucker86: Maybe you go to clown college.
fantasticraig: NOOOOOO
fantasticraig: the warinings were all there but i just ignored them
fantasticraig: UCF- universal clown federation?
Nunchucker86: And here I was, just thinking that you were an alcoholic.