Philip and the Fortune Teller
by
John Paulits
All rights reserved
Copyright © November 5, 2012, John Paulits
Cover Art Copyright © 2012, Charlotte Holley
Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.
Lockhart, TX
www.gypsyshadow.com
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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ISBN: 978-1-61950-131-7
Published in the United States of America
First eBook Edition: November, 2012
DEDICATION
To Bud and Lou again
And
W. W. Jacobs
Chapter One
Philip cowered in the bushes that jutted out near the old woman’s garage and gently moved some twigs aside to peek out. There she stood, dressed in a long, ragged black dress, her scraggly gray hair blowing about her shoulders, holding onto her porch railing and looking out over her yard for him.
All he had done was to toss his ball against her garage door as he walked past her house. Bang went the ball and bang went the old lady, bolting out of her rocking chair, pointing at him, and cackling at him to get away; stay away; don’t come back. The old woman took him by such surprise that his ball bounced off his knee and into the street and rolled down the sewer. A perfectly good ball only two weeks old, wasted.
This old lady had already phoned his house twice before with stupid complaints about him. Once, she said he stuck his tongue out at her. Ridiculous, Philip thought, as he kept his eye on her. Emery had given him a piece of the sourest candy he’d ever tasted. He’d spit it out and waggled his tongue around, trying to get the sourness to go away.
The other time the old woman told his mother he’d made a nasty gesture at her. Ridiculous again, Philip thought. He and Emery had walked by, and Philip saw a mangy cat sitting on the roof of the porch where the old woman rocked on a chair directly under the cat. The cat’s tail seemed to wag in time with the old lady’s rocking. Philip pointed to show Emery. Who wouldn’t point at such a funny sight?
The old woman jumped up, cackling as always, and a moment later, she bustled inside to her telephone. Philip’s father told him to use another street to get where he was going and stay off Van Kirk Street, where she lived. Philip didn’t want a third phone call, so he dived into the bushes before the old woman could get a good look at him. He hoped.
A whistling noise caught his attention, and he turned and saw Emery walking down the sidewalk. Philip waited for Emery to get nearer.
“Emery! Emery!”
Emery stopped and looked around.
“Philip?”
“Yeah.”
“Where are you?”
“Here.”
“Here, where?”
“Here, here.”
“You can’t be here. I’m here. You must be there.”
Philip clenched his jaw. Emery was starting up already.
“Cut it out, Emery. In the bushes.”
Emery stepped closer to the bushes and saw Philip.
“What are you doing in there?”
Philip shushed him and pointed.
“Oh, her again. Let me in.”
Philip shuffled over, and Emery scrouched in next to him.
“Why are you hiding?”
Philip explained.
“You sure she didn’t recognize you?” Emery asked.
“I don’t think she did. I pulled my hat down real fast. That’s why I missed the ball, and it rolled down the sewer.” Philip wore a red Phillies cap.
“Hide your cap, and let’s go out that way. She won’t see us.”
Philip followed Emery’s suggestion, and a few minutes later the two boys walked calmly down a different street. It was Wednesday morning, the fifth day of summer vacation, and both boys were in a good mood.
“Wait’ll you hear,” said Emery.
“Wait’ll I hear what?”
“I got a wish.”
“Everybody’s got wishes. I wish that old lady would move to New Jersey.”
“No, no. I made a wish come true.”
Philip sighed. He couldn’t wait to hear Emery explain this.
“Go ahead,” Philip muttered. “Let’s hear.”
“I just came from where they’re setting up the circus. You seen all the posters, right?”
“I guess I have. They’re hanging on every street in the neighborhood. There’s one there. It says it starts today.”
The boys examined a brightly-colored poster attached to a telephone pole. Cole Brothers Circus and Carnival. It had a picture of a tiger jumping through a fiery hoop; a lady riding a bicycle on a high wire; a pharaoh in a tall headdress; and a gypsy who wore a dangling hoop earring and whose head looked like it was wrapped in a towel.
“Why’d you go there? It’s not open in the morning.”
“I didn’t have anything to do so I went to see.” Emery ran to the telephone pole and put his finger on the gypsy. “See this guy? He talked to me. He called me over to his tent. I made a wish, and he granted it.”
Philip’s confidence in Emery plummeted.
“He told you to make a wish; you, nobody but you, and he granted it like a genie who popped out of a bottle?”
“Yeah, I wished I could see the circus, and look.” With flair, Emery pulled a ticket to the circus from his pocket. “I didn’t even have to pay.”
Philip studied the ticket. This put things into a different light. With Emery waving the ticket under his nose, he had to believe him.
“How’d you get it? For free, really?”
“Didn’t I say how I got it, and didn’t I say it was for free?”
“You did. You did. But why’d he pick you?”
“Let me tell you what happened.”
Chapter Two
Earlier that day Emery had walked over to see the bustle of preparation going on at Lighthouse Field. Tents were going up; circus people ran to and fro; an occasional horse or elephant walked past. Emery decided to take a closer look. No one paid any attention to him as he walked through the madness, trying to keep out of everyone’s way. Then it happened.
“Boy.”
Emery paused. He was the only boy he saw.
“You, boy.”
Emery turned and saw a gypsy sitting at a small round table outside of a small tent. The gypsy was dressed in a baggy, silky-looking shirt and pants and had a red bandanna wrapped around his head. A big, round, golden earring dangled from his right ear, and he sported a big black mustache.
“Me?” Emery squeaked.
The gypsy didn’t answer, but simply crooked a long finger in summons.
Emery felt his heartbeat jump, but he obeyed.
“Sit down,” the gypsy said
. To Emery’s ear it sounded like, “Seet dowwwn,” and Emery thought he recognized the voice. He did! It sounded like the voice he’d heard in an old movie he and Philip had watched. It sounded like the voice of Count Dracula! Afraid to do anything but what the gypsy demanded, Emery sat on a folding wooden chair near the gypsy.
“I think you can help me,” the gypsy said with his frighteningly slow pronunciation.
“M . . . m . . . me?”
“If you can help me, I will grant you a wish immediately. Say you can help me.”
Behind him Emery heard an elephant trumpet, and Emery wondered how in the world he had ended up in the short space of a minute with a scary-talking gypsy in front of him and a bleating elephant behind him.
“Well, I . . . I don’t know. What . . . what . . . what . . . ?
The gypsy raised a finger to him, and Emery shut up as the gypsy reached under his table and pulled out a creamy glass ball. Emery stared wide-eyed as the gypsy put the ball on the table.
“Stare into the ball,” the gypsy ordered. “Stare hard.”
Emery glued his eyes to the ball, relieved the gypsy had not ordered him to stare at the gypsy himself.
“You have a wish,” the gypsy drawled. “I can see it in the ball. No, do not tell me what it is. The crystal ball will tell me, and because you will help me, I will grant your wish.”
Emery peeked up at the gypsy whose eyes were closed as he rubbed his hands across the ball.
“I see it!” the gypsy barked, and Emery jumped and returned his eyes to the ball, not wanting the gypsy to catch him looking anywhere else.
“Now, you may look away. The vision is gone.”
Emery shyly returned his eyes to the gypsy.
“You wish to see the circus.” The gypsy’s voice rose. “I grant you your wish.” From somewhere in the folds of his billowing sleeve, the gypsy produced what looked like a ticket. “You may take this to the box office anytime and exchange it for a ticket to the circus. Your wish is granted. Now, you see my power. Now, you see what I can do. Now, you will help me, and if you do, I will grant you three more wishes at the completion of your task.”
Emery took the ticket and studied it. It looked like the real thing. And for free!
“What do I have to do?” Emery asked with a quaver in his voice.
“I have a chore for you. You need only do what I ask, and the three wishes are yours.”
“Do I have to do it alone?”
The gypsy tilted his head questioningly.
“Two people might be better,” Emery argued. “I have a friend. He could help me do whatever it is.”
“Bring him to me,” the gypsy ordered. “Immediately!”
“Uh, well, okay. I’ll go get him.” He stood and slipped the ticket into his pocket. “I’ll be right back.” He took a few steps and turned back. “You’ll be here, right?”
The gypsy didn’t answer, but simply extended his arm, his crooked finger pointing into the distance.
Emery turned and ran off.
~ * ~
“So how about that?” Emery bubbled. “What do you think of that? I showed you the ticket. It’s all real.”
Philip wanted a free ticket to the circus. What made Emery the lucky one? But it still sounded weird.
“The ticket looks real. Did you sit there and make a wish to go to the circus, and he just . . . poof . . . popped out a ticket?”
“No, I didn’t say anything.”
“So, you didn’t make a wish?”
“No, but I wanted to see the circus.”
“But you didn’t tell the gypsy that?”
“I guess he could see into my mind through his crystal ball. Oh, man. He read my mind! He’s even more powerful than I thought!” A worried look came across Emery’s face. “We better watch out what we think when we’re around him.”
“People can’t read minds,” Philip said, not entirely sure his statement rang true.
“Then how’d the gypsy know I wanted to go see the circus?”
“I don’t know. Everybody wants to go see the circus.”
“I don’t think so. The old lady who made you lose your ball probably doesn’t want to go see the circus.”
“She should be in the circus; in the Spooky House.”
“Philip, you gotta come and meet the gypsy. If he lets you help me, he’ll give you three wishes. Imagine what we could do with three wishes.”
The possibilities appealed to Philip. “Yeah,” he said. “What would you wish for?”
“I don’t know. A million dollars. All 100s in every test I ever take. How about you?”
“A million dollars sounds good, but I wouldn’t waste a wish on school. How about . . . how about a new car every year for free when I grow up? Yeah. And muscles.”
“Mussels? You eat that snotty-looking seafood thing in the little black shells? Ew! That’s disgusting!”
“What snotty seafood thing? Are you crazy? I don’t want to eat any snotty-looking seafood?”
“You just said you want it.”
“I never said I wanted snotty-looking seafood. I want muscles.” Philip stretched out his arms and bent them.
“Ohhhh,” said Emery. “Those muscles. Muscles? That’s stupid.”
“Yeah, well, when I have muscles, and you bother me, I’ll use them.”
“I give you three wishes, and you’re going to muscle me? Forget it. I’ll get somebody else to help me then.”
Philip knew he’d gone too far. “No, I’m just kidding, Emery. Muscles are good for, you know, doing stuff. Lifting things. And they look good, right?”
Emery gazed doubtfully at Philip. “I guess so. Well, come on. Let’s go see the gypsy.”
Chapter Three
They hurried toward Lighthouse Field, but slowed down considerably once they entered the grounds.
“Wow!” said Philip. “Everybody’s so busy. Is that the guy?”
“Him? Does he look like a gypsy to you?”
“He looks like something.”
“He’s an Egypt guy, a pharaoh. See the snake thingie on his headpiece? Don’t you remember? We saw pictures of them in school this year.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember. I like Isis.”
“Nothing’s open yet. You can’t get any.”
Philip stopped walking. “I can’t get any what?”
“Ices. I like mango.”
“You like mango what?”
“Mango ices.”
“What are you talking about? Who’s mango Isis? They don’t have mangos in Egypt.”
“Whose mango ices? Anybody’s. And what’s Egypt have to do with mango ices?”
Philip’s voice rose. “There’s no mango Isis or banana Isis or apple Isis. There’s just Isis.”
“There’s mango and banana. I’ve had them. They’re good. Especially when it’s hot out. I don’t think there’s apple, though.”
“Argh!” Philip howled. “Let’s start over. The Egypt guy. I said Isis. I didn’t say ices.”
Emery stared at his friend. “Can you say that again?”
Philip scrooched his mouth together hard, trying to be patient. “I said, I said Isis. I didn’t say ices.”
“You said ices, but you didn’t say ices?”
“Right. Now you got it.”
“I got it? I don’t even know what I’m talking about. Are you feeling all right?”
Philip’s voice rose. “We studied Egypt, and we studied Isis. She’s like a goddess or something.”
“Ohhhh. Isis. You said Isis. I thought you said ices.”
Philip nearly screamed. “I did say Isis!”
“I thought you meant ices, like cold stuff in a cup. Mango, remember?”
Philip threw his hands to his head. “Why would I be talking about an Egypt guy and mango ices at the same time?”
Emery shrugged. “Yeah, I thought you were talking kind of weird.”
“I was talking weird? You were listening weird.”
“Shhhh,” E
mery cautioned. “Let’s go and find the gypsy.” They walked a few steps and Emery said, “Now you made me want a mango ice. Look out! Don’t step there. Elephant poop.”
Philip gritted his teeth and walked in a loop.
A moment later, Emery pointed. “There he is.”
Philip saw him. He looked like a real gypsy. The man sat in front of his tent, the small round table next to him, just as Emery had described. When he saw the boys, he sat up straight and beckoned them.
“This is my friend I told you about,” Emery said.
“Sit.” To Philip, it sounded like “seeet.”
Emery took a second folding chair and put it next to the one he’d sat in earlier. He and Philip sat down.
“So,” the gypsy began, “you will do a task for me?”
Philip and Emery turned to one another. Emery turned back to the gypsy.
“I guess so. For three wishes. We each get three wishes,” said Emery.
“What! Six wishes. It cannot be done! No! I can grant three wishes only. You must share the wishes. Do not waste them. Never again in your life will you have your wishes granted the way I can grant them. Three wishes only are in my power to grant.”
Philip and Emery glanced nervously at one another again.
“Well, okay, I guess,” Emery said. “What do we have to do?”
The gypsy leaned close to the boys.
“Do you know the word artifact?”
“I think so,” said Philip. “We learned it in school this year.” The word had come up when they studied about Egypt. “It’s something valuable from long ago.”
“Very good.” It sounded to Philip like he said “fairy goot.”
“Long ago an artifact was stolen from my very good friend Achmed. There is Achmed.”
The boys looked where the gypsy pointed and saw the Egyptian man they’d noticed earlier. He sat outside another tent across from the gypsy’s tent, looking their way.
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