Feeling Very Strange - Site de Thomas - Free

the little Magic shop | 17
imbibed,” said Mr. O’Beronne, “restores a condition of blushing youth
to man or beast.”
“Is that a fact,” said James, his brows knitting in thought. “How many
teaspoons per bottle?”
“I’ve no idea,” Mr. O’Beronne admitted. “Never measured it by the
spoon. Mind you, this is an old folks’ item. Fellows of your age usually
go for the love-potions.”
“How much for a bottle?” said James.
“It is a bit steep,” said Mr. O’Beronne grudgingly. “The price is everything
you possess.”
“Seems reasonable,” said James. “How much for two bottles?”
Mr. O’Beronne stared. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, young man.”
He recorked the bottle carefully. “You’ve yet to give me all you possess,
mind.”
“How do I know you’ll still have the waters, when I need more?”
James said.
Mr. O’Beronne’s eyes shifted uneasily behind his bifocals. “You let
me worry about that.” He leered, but without the same conviction he
had shown earlier. “I won’t be shutting up this shop — not when there
are people of your sort about.”
“Fair enough,” said James, and they shook hands on the bargain.
James returned two days later, having sold everything he owned. He
handed over a small bag of gold specie and a bank draft conveying the
slender remaining funds of his patrimony. He departed with the clothes
on his back and the bottle.
Twenty years passed.
The United States suffered civil war. Hundreds of thousands of men
were shot, blown up with mines or artillery, or perished miserably in
septic army camps. In the streets of New York, hundreds of antidraft
rioters were mown down with grapeshot, and the cobbled street before
the little magic shop was strewn with reeking dead. At last, after stubborn
resistance and untold agonies, the Confederacy was defeated. The
war became history.
James Abernathy returned.
“I’ve been in California,” he announced to the astonished Mr.
O’Beronne. James was healthily tanned and wore a velvet cloak, spurred