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Love Potion Number Nine

James Hold

She said, “I’m gonna make it up
right here in the sink.”

    The door was locked. And bolted. Heavy chains passed through the pull bars and an enormous oak beam fit across it. Further there were giant boulders piled before it and a large sign on the wall said No Trespassing. All surrounded by a flooded moat filled with alligators and beyond that a pit of vipers.
    “I don’t think he’s receiving visitors today,” Jo, an undersized girl with plain features, commented to her friend.
    “Nonsense,” J, also un-tall and equally gaunt, pushed past her to study the barricade. “All eccentric recluses put up barriers when in truth they’re dyin’ for company.”
    He crossed the moat with a nimble hop, leaped the snake pit, and scampered up the rock pile. “Hello,” he pounded; “anybody home?”
    A slot opened and a gun barrel pointed out.
    “Allow me to introduce myself,” J removed his hat. “I’m with th’—”
    The gun went off, blackening J’s face with powdery soot.
    “Told ya;” the girl shook her head. “Now can we go? This place gives me the creeps.”
    “All right,” J wiped his face with a bandana. “But imagine a guy not wantin’ a set of encyclopedias.”
    Of a sudden the door opened.
    “Encyclopedias?” a voice within called out. “Did you say encyclopedias?”
    “Actually it’s encyclopedia, singular. You see, my friend is workin’ her way through medical school—she’s studyin’ phlebotomy—and we’re selling—”
    “Phlebotomy?” the unseen voice repeated.
    “Flea-bots: tiny mechanical insects that crawl on dogs. As I was sayin’, we represent th’ Kin, that’s K-I-N, Book Company with this one time deal—”
    “You’re offering me a freakin’ book?”
    “No, ya have to pay for it. But consider, the Book of All Knowledge, otherwise known as th’ BOAN, th’ most comprehensive collection—”
    “Knowledge starts with a K.”
    “True, but BOAK sounds stupid.”
    “Hmm; I may have need of such a book. Stand back as I open the door.”
    The door swung inward—the locks, chains, and boulders had been for show—and there stood a woman, 6-foot tall and slender as a sunbeam, clad in a floor-length dress with a neckline that plunged to her naval. J, ever the gentleman, offered to come back after she’d finished dressing. The woman shrugged and asked to see the book. Tiny Jo had been hugging the BOAN to her chest. The massive tome obscured her frame from waist to shoulders. J took it from her, preparatory to handing it over.
    “By th’ way,” he asked, “was that you with th’ shotgun?”
    “Don’t be silly,” the woman answered. “Sheep can’t handle weapons.” She took the BOAN and flipped to the first page. “What the heck?” she exclaimed. “The print is so small I can hardly read it.”
    “It’s th’ only way they could cram everythin’ into one volume,” J explained.
    “But not to worry,” Jo for the first time spoke up. “We also offer a free complimentary magnifying glass for a reasonable price.”
    “Complimentary?”
    “It goes well with everything,” Jo nodded.
    The woman sighed, then taking the glass flipped the pages, stopping at an entry on human anatomy. She glanced at it with interest, “It is as I thought,” and handed book and glass back. “Very, well; you may go now.”
    “What?” Jo cried. “That’s it?”
    “I had to confirm something in my research,” the woman explained. “I’ve no more use for your book.”
    “That’s not fair,” Jo complained. “You should at least pay a rental fee. If you ask me you’ve got a lot of gall taking advantage of a poor college girl this way.”
    “Gall is precisely what I have, child,” the woman smiled sinisterly; “as in gall bladders. I’m collecting extracts for my work.”
    “What sorta work are ya doin’?” J asked her, hoping to avoid an altercation between her and Jo.
    Again the woman smiled. “You see that portrait on the wall?” she indicated a painting.
    “Oh, I wouldn’t call it ‘poor’,” said J. “Granted I’ve seen better, but—”
    “That painting,” the woman spoke firmly, “is my grandfather. He discovered the secret of eternal youth which I am trying to replicate.”
    “Eternal youth? But he looks a hundred years old.”
    “That’s because he discovered it a long time ago.” She went on: “My mistake was using animal extracts. But I see now I must use human gall bladders. And since the two of you have kindly delivered yourselves into my clutches...”
    “Oh, well,” Jo backed toward the door. “Can’t win ‘em all. We’ll just show ourselves out and—”
    Her exit was blocked by a hulking figure behind her.
    “J? What has long hair and purple feet?”
    “A lion who makes his own wine?” J ventured.
    “That is my hulking assistant,” the woman explained. “Surely you didn’t think I wouldn’t have one.”
    “It is SOP,” J conceded. Then turning to face the brute he called out: “Quick, Jo! Leave me ‘n get outta here.”
    “I can’t,” the tiny girl cried back.
    “Look, Jo, this is no time for bravery.”
    “Who’s brave? I don’t know where the exit is. I lost track of it when we came in.”
    The rest of her words were drowned as the hulking brute took them in his arms. The woman pressed a cloth to their faces and when next they awoke they were in a basement laboratory strapped to gurneys.
    “How do you strap a laboratory to a gurney?” J wondered.
    “He means we’re the ones strapped to gurneys,” Jo explained. “He should have said ‘in a laboratory and strapped to gurneys’.”
    “Fine, fine,” the woman scientist broke in, “we can fix the syntax later. At the moment I need to calculate how much gall to extract.” She held up an enormous syringe.
    “Haven’t you anythin’ smaller?” J asked. “We’re not that big, ya know.”
    “You are on the puny side,” the woman granted. “Still it’s not my fault you’re horizontally challenged.” She studied them deciding which to do first.
    “You’ll never get away with this,” J felt duly bound to say. It was another of those SOP things for mad scientist stories.
    “Are you kidding? Who’s going to miss a couple of encyclopedia salesmen?”
    It was a point well-taken as the pointed syringe pierced J’s side. J gritted his teeth but made no sound. That is he made no sound until the syringe actually entered, after which he let out a yell that could’ve brought down the walls of Jericho.
    “Did it hurt?” Jo asked.
    “Is she kiddin’?” J looked about for sympathy. “By th’ way, where’s yer hulkin’ assistant?”
    “I sent him out for burgers. Mad sciencing works up an appetite.”
    She turned her back and busied herself with test tubes and flasks of colored fluids. “Ah hah!” she said finally. “At last! The secret of eternal youth is mine!” And not wasting another word she downed the liquid concoction. She gloated briefly and even permitted herself a villainous “Mwahaha” before her face changed and she crumpled to the floor, dead.
    “That was quick,” J noted.
    “Yes,” Jo agreed. “We’re nearing our word limit and had to get it over with.”
    Later, over burgers and fries shared with the hulking assistant, Jo studied the lady scientist’s notebook where she made a discovery.
    “You remember what we said earlier about proper syntax? Correct spelling is also important. It seems her grandfather wasn’t up on his English. According to this, grandpa didn’t use ‘gall’ bladders, but ‘Gaul’ bladders; that region of ancient Europe encompassing present-day France, Belgium, and Switzerland.”
    “Oh,” J chewed thoughtfully. “And th’ potion didn’t work cos I’m not Swiss.”
    “It shows how a proper foundation in basic English can be fundamental to one’s survival. I’m sure the BOAN would agree with me... That is, assuming it knew how to spell as well.”

 

    The characters J and Jo appear regularly in the OUT OF TEXAS series available from Amazon.

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

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