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On the Shelf: |
Behind the Counter: |
This Week's Special:
Emily is house-sitting,
again, a cold home. The shower is pleasant at full-hot and the coffee machine
provides lukewarm beverage. Emily's hands sting with cold on morning dog walk,
which eases ten minutes away from and resumes ten minutes before
house-sittings. The dog sleeps in guest bed alongside her and said snuggling
has already nudged Emily onto floor once.
'Cunt.'
Emily
pairs dart with Hidden Ridge 2024 Coonawarra 2024 Cabernet Sauvignon, pacing to
stay warm. The dog places ball on back patio, for throwing obligated in house-sitting,
which dog knows. Before Emily can
step into automatic light's range, the ball has rolled off and downhill. This
ritual has been thus frustrated dozen times tonight and Emily wants to sit
inside but the blankets are mid. Somebody must offer a solution.
That somebody is Frankie.
Frankie was
looking for something she stashed in her parents' garage when she heard a
'quack' with no visible source. Well: Move Fast and Break Things. Frankie moved
fast, Cyclone metre-cube garden bag always just short of quacking's panicky
source. She broke things, as did the invisible duck - an Aurora AFX Thunderloop
Thriller fell off top shelf.
The quarry escaped and
Frankie catches breath whilst starfished on concrete. Dust wafts to cover floor
and, settling alongside it, Invisible Duck Feathers. It is only the airborne
grime, landing in strange transparent architecture, that alerts Frankie to her
loot. She boxes them and labels the box, lest it be mistaken for empty.
The price of Invisible Duck
Feathers tends to hike because people forget where they left them. On the
demand side:
·
Fletching arrows
with Invisible Duck Feathers makes them invisible, sacrificing accuracy for
sake of fun.
·
Filling transparent
quilt cover with I.D.F. (did not think acronym through) allows one to appear
hardy whilst passed out.
·
When arranging
fascinators, I.D.F. hide all the little tricks the prop the big, showy feathers
up.
But which market pays the
best price?
That
market is Emily.
Frankie and Emily have a contract drawn.
This stipulates, for the illiterate:
1.
Frankie will
supply Emily with adequate Invisible Duck Feathers.
2.
Emily will knit
sufficient feathers in a plain black wool beanie.
(She sneezes whilst doing so and, whilst she cannot see them, knows half the
pile is scattered. 'Uh oh'.
3.
Emily will be in
possession of the Beanie of Surprising Warmth for the Winter of 2025.
4.
On 30/8/2025, or
before if involved parties agree, possession of said Beanie will pass to Frankie.
So
Frankie will own-then-sell the Beanie of Surprising Warmth. The market for this
headgear hopes to look a bit brandless working-class at the next ANZAC Dawn
Service. A touch here I am braving cold
in hoodie and beanie, whilst you snobs wear coats. Said market does feel
the cold and probably wears coats when coats are arrogant.
That
market is Esmeralda.
You
can sometimes find Esmeralda at the dive (shopping) centre of up-market Eastern
suburbs. She is recognised by silk coat billowing transparent red and blue
behind her pace. Otherwise she will be reading R. F. Kuang's Yellowface in the Chinese restaurant's
Al Fresco. She works in, uh, business or government, but her hobby of making
wands has become side hustle.
The
Wand of Projected Lead channel's the user's magical energy into one particular
spell. In this case that particular spell is launching, as if by gunpowder,
pieces of lead about 7.82 mm in diameter.
It is not rigid wood- the innovation of the 2020's is to encase wand
core in flexible thermoplastic elastomers. They can be used by any magic user
or, more likely, rogue with sufficient Use
Magic Device. A knob at wand's end can be grasped for aiming and it can be
fired from between hips.
The
market for the Wand of Projected Lead, can use wands and may want to project
lead. Said want to project lead implies a certain want of preservation beyond
what the State offers. Esmeralda designed the wand to dangle out of fly, two
thermoplastic elastomer knobs holding it in place. Ideally, dangling want out
of fly will become fashionable amongst a certain subset of women.
That
market is Renee.
Renee likes scooters
and getting high. Renee works as a lawyer and side hustles, whilst high, as a
lawyer. She drew, in crayon, the above contract, which half paid for the Wand
of Projected Lead. The other half was paid by drawing the contract below:
This
contract legally binds the purchaser, of Salad Gremlin, to the ethical care of
said Salad Gremlin. A Salad Gremlin is a
small hominid that lives behind the fridge, for heat and ozone. Once a day, it
will creep into fridge and fiddle greens, carrot, mushroom, capsicum, chevre,
olive oil and something else. By doing so it extracts the chlorophyll that
provides its green hue and, relevantly, produces a salad. In winter months it
makes vegetable soup.
Elise learnt
about Salad Gremlins whilst skimming her boyfriend's cryptozoology books and
formed a hypothesis. To test it, she travelled to an urban food-desert and
taxied around, window watching until seeing dumped fridge in alley or gutter.
She would stop and leave salad ingredients in possum trap. One of seventeen
traps captured a creature which was difficult convincing quarantine is a Chiaotzu.
Elise
opted to sell the Salad Gremlin but her boyfriend insisted
it be done ethically. Hence the contract. Still, a market: the person who wants
to be the person who eats vegetables and light lunches. The type to work until
hungry and go to fridge and eat what is first available.
That
market is Frankie.
