“Hey, weren’t you just here 10 seconds ago,” Jim joked from behind the counter.
“Yeah… I was,” responded Dickie, confused in the moment. As I type this he may have moved back to the street corner about 10 yards away. Twice this has happened already.
“Lovecraft stuff, that’s what it is. Like with Black Bart. How’s the old creature doing anyway?”
Dickie thought back to his assignment. Rent an apartment in the underground, keep an eye on Black Bart downstairs. How’s that part of it going? he thinks sarcastically.
“Check your viewer again,” gruffed Jim Brown, poised to sell his first customer of the morning some 3 day old apple juice. Got one day more on that stuff, Jim thought. Then I’ll have to drink it myself. Jim knew he could dispose of anything — internally. That’s why he didn’t buy any garbage cans or bags when he rented the stall oh, about 3 years ago I guess. Brown comes from a long line of renters, not buyers.
“See what I mean!” he shouted to Dickie at the the corner, observing what happened all the time but not able or not willing to share the information right now. “You just stay right there!” he called again. “I’ll bring you a nice glass of apple juice to soothe your nerves!”
(to be continued)
Sunklands 